Red Dragon's Vengeance
by Ronin201
Summary: Rivalries from days past threaten to turn the modern Southwest Pacific of Strangereal into a wasteland. The next generation must step up and hold the line before things fall apart. Rewrite and re-imagining of my old story, Eagle and The Dragon. Contains OCs and heavy use of fanon. Respective owners of material inside retain their rights.
1. Forward & Prologue: Isolated Incident

Hello All,

I don't normally do any kind of forward, but due to some contributions to this story and in light of some recent events in the realm of Ace Combat I felt it would help readers. Firstly, I'd like to thank a few people who've helped in making this fic and what'll be coming in it. I'd like to thank my friends Sho, Cerb, and Phantom. Though they won't actually be writing for this story, they've contributed in both characters, units/organization, and sharing their knowledge to help me create the story and get it where I want it to be. Thanks guys, and I hope you enjoy where this stories goes and how your guys' parts figure in.

Additionally, I feel it helpful to add that this fic does not incorporate Ace Combat Seven in any way. This rewrite has been in planning a very long time and I find no compelling reason to incorporate the game, especially when it's slatted to come out in 2018. Like many of my fics, this one again incorporates a lot of fanon to fill in the blanks that Kono and Project Aces often leaves behind. As a visual aid, you can find a map of the setting for this story at my Devianart. Due to site rules I can't post a link, but you can find me under the same handle that I am here. Thanks and happy reading!

* * *

 _Prologue: Isolated Incident_

 _December 27, 2023_

 _Verusean-Yuktobanian Border_

Sergeant Yuri Kasolov moved a branch out of the way as he walked slowly along the trail with the rest of the eight-man squad. The man looked to the right, peering through the foliage and spotting a tall red and yellow post. He looked back to his front at Illvanich, the patrol's pointman for today. Kasolov followed the man under another branch and then up a steep ascent to one of the better vantage points along this route. Part of its beauty was that it had a good deal of cover due to being far enough back from the border to be out of the "buffer zone". He stopped as Illvanich did the same to check the trail up to the crest for loose snow. Kasolov turned around and signaled his patrol to take a knee and observe the Verusean side of the border. To his satisfaction everyone's weapons were still pointed towards native Yuktobania. After kneeling down, Kasolov looked back towards Illvanich, then the border, which was currently unguarded. He squinted his eyes and watched for some kind of movement. Illvanich cleared his breath nearby; the Sergeant looked at him.

"Comrade Sergeant, I suggest we go around and up the northern slope; this way is very slippery. Not good for a bunch of Border Guards in all their gear." He reported through the scarf over his mouth and nose.

"Understood, Illvanich. Where exactly is the major problem?" Kasolov asked, lowering his own. The man took a hand off of his AK-12 and aimed the limb at the middle of the ascent.

"Those rocks we tend to use to help us up; very slick today, Comrade Sergeant. The snow's been walked on by other patrols, us included. It's gotten packed down and is becoming icy." He explained while Kasolov observed.

"A good reason not to ascend that way, then." He agreed. The man looked back at his unit, and then checked his watch. It would only put them a few minutes off schedule at most.

"Okay Illvanich, you lead the way." He said, putting his face's cover back in its place.

Illvanich nodded and stood up; Kasalov signaled to the rest of the patrol to follow in twos. The first two men behind them, his light machine gunner and a grenadier, stood up and carefully followed at a distance. The patrol curled around, going through some trees and up the slope from behind, where the angle was far gentler. The tradeoff was they would have to go through terrain that was without a path, which in most cases meant nothing more than some bushes clawing at them and other minor inconveniences. Certainly better than a slippery slope. Due to the different approach though, they would lose sight of the border for a short amount of time. Kasalov ignored that, though; he could still hear…

…And hear something he did: dogs barking. Kasalov's head perked up and his face hardened. The others also heard the noise; their sergeant started making motions for them to form a defensive line. He took his radioman, Pimenov, and the patrol's sharpshooter, Baranov, and hurried up to the top of the hill. The other five men were distributed on the sides in a group of two and a group of three. The two-man group, one of which was armed with a PKP light machinegun, whistled softly and motioned at a space across the border. Kasalov looked over where he was waving and directed his marksman to look over the area through the scope of his SVD-M sniper rifle. The man laid out flat and crawled forward until he was at the very edge of the slope facing the buffer zone. Kasalov assisted him by scanning with his binoculars.

"Comrade Sergeant, our two o' clock!" one of his men spoke up over the radio.

Kasalov looked that way and saw a figure appear over the crest of an upward slope in a flurry of snow from his running. The man then went charging down the opposite slope towards the posts that marked the border.

"Baranov is that man armed?" The Sergeant asked.

"He has only a briefcase, I believe. It's hard to tell with all the snow he's kicking up." the sharpshooter replied.

"Abramovich, take Bok and Gribov and arrest that man! Wait until he crosses the border!" Kasalov ordered.

The three riflemen hurried through the brush into the open field to meet the unknown individual. Kasalov readied a megaphone he carried with him and tracked the man as he neared the posts.

"Halt, now!" He shouted in Verusean.

The figure stopped, shocked by the sight of men in camouflage approaching him with sleek, matte-black assault rifles. He looked back as the reason he was running so frantically came into view: Belkan Shepherds. No doubt the dogs were soon to be followed by Verusean Frontier Guardsmen (VBW in Verusean). The man, more unnerved by the canines than the armed men, continued running for the border.

"Halt!" Kasalov stressed.

Then they came. There were eight of them on horseback (the VBW still employed such a tactic), dressed in white parkas and pants that bulged out over their combat harnesses beneath. Their weapons, QBZ-03 assault rifles, were wielded like John Wayne did his rifle in Osean cowboy movies. One pulled up a whistle and blew it; the lack of a loud sound told the Yuktobanians it was a dog whistle. Two Belkan Shepards stopped near them, wet and panting from what could be assumed to be a frantic chase. The fact that they'd stopped it wasn't sitting well with the Yuktobanian sergeant. The man, logically, should've been apprehended by now. He was still on the Veruseans' side of the border and the MVD troops were powerless to cross unless provoked. So why weren't they sending the dogs on the man? One of the VBW troops was observing the area with his binoculars. Kasalov adjusted himself and tried to decide what to do as the standoff became more and more tense. Procedure dictated they simply let the man be arrested by them; again they had no power in Verusa.

Without warning one of them shot the "briefcase man" with a three-round burst from his weapon. Kasalov flinched at the spontaneity of the move and immediately looked towards the VBW troops. His men remained still, vigilantly watching the Veruseans atop their horses. The defector or criminal or whatever he'd been lay on the ground, a red stain slowly growing on his back. The briefcase he'd been carrying was near one of the posts that marked the border; it was hard to tell what side it'd fallen on. Kasalov watched the VBW patrol for a reaction and got nothing; they continued to stand there. Kasalov looked towards the woods for more shooters, pondering if they were being set up. The Veruseans loved to play elaborate tricks, and sometimes local overzealous commanders stirred up border incidents to kill a few of his kind.

"Zakarev, do you see anything in the trees?" The Sergeant asked.

"No sir…it's just those thr-wait…I see movement to our ten." The sniper replied.

Kasalov looked in that direction and saw brief flashes of white and green amongst the trees. He frowned and tried to worm his way inside the mind of whoever was in charge across of the men just across the border. His first conclusion was that they were responding to his setup and likely troops that'd been trailing behind the horse riders in case the now-dead man evaded his initial pursuers. He looked back to the right and saw one of his men, Private First Class Gribov, making slow movements towards the briefcase. Kasalov's first thought was one of alarm, especially when he saw the Verusean who'd shot the man holding the briefcase, raise his rifle again. The MVD Sergeant raised his hand.

"Gribov, sto-"

There was another loud burst; Gribov fell back, his face unrecognizable. To the dying man's left Private Bok stumbled back, instinctively raising his AK-12. The horse-mounted troops reacted swiftly, moving back to get out of the line of fire. One of the Veruseans in the bush opened up with a QJY-88 light machine gun. The rapid bursts that cut down the two other privates in the open forced Kasalov's hand.

"Open fire! Fire, fire, fire! Zakarev, kill that machine gun!" He ordered over the radio.

Kasalov also ordered Illvanich to employ his GP-40 grenade launcher alongside the patrol leader to suppress the VBW troops as soon as possible. Kasalov raised his weapon and felt it shudder as a muffled cough sent the 40mm grenade across the border. There was a brief geyser of snow and dirt before the explosion was replaced by one of the horses crying out. Kasalov watched the trailing horse, along with its rider, go down. The Sergeant didn't see him get up and chose another target. He saw another one of the horseback VBW soldiers run to aide his comrade and raised his AK-12 to fire. The man pulled back the trigger three times and watched the Verusean's neck explode in crimson after the second trigger pull. The man swung his weapon left as PKP rounds raked the foliage. Kasalov got down as a few errant bullets sliced at the tree to his right. He aimed best he could through the branches and fired at the muzzle flashes along the far treeline.

Suddenly he heard a whistle; the man was unable to suppress one laugh. The Veruseans, even in 2024, used whistles for signaling. Kasalov half expected a horde of Verusean Red Guards, dressed in old fur caps and mustard-colored parkas, to come screaming over the ridge with their bolt-action rifles. It almost forced another, grimmer, laugh out of him. _Only the Veruseans…_ He thought. Instead, the fire across the buffer zone started to die down. Kasalov kept searching for targets until he saw no further movement. His eyes counted at least six human corpses, plus at least two animal ones. The man raised his binoculars and quickly swept the area. The Veruseans had withdrawn; now came the cleanup.

"Illvanich, Vorlini, come with me!" The Sergeant ordered. He saw Bok's arm moving.

The pointman and patrol's medic hurried after their leader following a second of confusion. Kasalov kept his AK aimed across the border and took a knee near the wounded Private. The man was clutching his stomach, desperately wheezing "doctor" over and over. Vorlini slid to his knees near the man and pulled off his pack to get medical supplies. Illvanich went to the far left, near the briefcase man, and kept an eye on the brushes. The three heard whining; a look at Bok revealed it wasn't him. Kasalov whirled his head all over until he saw one of the Belkan Shepards limping aimlessly through the snow, a red stain on his right hind leg. Kasalov looked at the wounded dog a minute, and then at the border posts. His conscious appealed to him to help the poor creature.

"Comrade Sergeant, where are you going?" Illvanich barked. Kasalov glared back at him as he ran across the snowy grasses.

"Just shut up, Private…and get that briefcase!" He snapped. Whatever it was, the man reasoned it valuable.

Kasalov, who'd proudly owned a Border Collie when he'd been young, couldn't bring himself to leave his men and the dog. The Shepard cowered a little at the sight of the man with his rifle, only to find the once enemy carefully petting its head before it reached down to carry it. It whimpered and cried in both pain and fear; Kasalov ignored it and cooed soothingly in his native tongue. The creature must've been thought dead by its masters and left behind. The other dog lay dead, killed by Zakrev's SVD when it'd charged the Yuktobanians' positions. He ignored its continued noises and wriggling and carried the wounded creature into Yuktobania while Illvanich held the briefcase in one hand and his AK in the other.

"Comrade Pimenov! Radio the post and tell them we need medical evacuation! We'll be moving to our emergency LZ near Waypoint 6-B!" He shouted breathlessly into the trees.

"Understood, Comrade Sergeant!" The Radioman shouted a little too loudly.

With their two acquisitions and fallen brethren in tow, the MVD troops made their hasty retreat to safety.


	2. Chp 1: Schedule Change

_Chp. 1: Schedule Change_

 _December 29, 2023_

 _Altaria Bay, Southwest Osea_

Lieutenant Eric Bradford was very used to the phone ringing at early hours in the day, but he never liked it. It was almost always for one reason, and he wasn't very good at getting up and moving out quickly. Still, he had to do it; it was part of his job. The man propped himself up and snatched the blocky device off the nightstand.

"Eric Bradford speaking." He said without reading the number.

"Lieutenant Bradford, this is the Duty Officer's Desk for VF-138, your leave has been canceled and you are instructed to return to the squadron building as soon as possible." A disembodied voice said. It was probably the enlisted sailor manning the front desk. Something was up that dictated speed; the man had said his message without as much as a "good morning, sir". Eric ignored that; he was almost immediately dismayed his leave had been yanked away from him.

"Understood…I'll be there in about an hour." He assured. The other end acknowledged and hung up.

Eric sighed and set the phone back down. He looked over at the bed's other occupant, Misaki Kuro. He freely and quickly admitted she looked very nice with messy hair, propped up only a little so she could be at level with him. His girlfriend was frowning in confusion and concern, though. He couldn't blame her.

"What was that all about?" She asked. He sat down and sighed.

"They need me back at the unit, unfortunately…sorry, Saki." Eric explained. She grimaced and hugged him.

"Never a dull moment, I guess…call me when you get there, please?" She said.

"I will…sorry I have to go. Hey, we get lucky I may be back soon." Eric replied. She nodded.

"My thoughts exactly, besides we don't know what's going on; find out first and for all you know you'll be back on leave tomorrow."

Eric leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled his neck affectionately. He made a bit of a show about departing the bed and leaving her before he hurried into the bathroom. Eric Bradford normally had more energy when he was getting ready to go do his job of being a fighter pilot. It'd been his dream, after all. He was still miffed about being ripped away from vacation, though. Part of his mind insisted it'd be a quick return, though. Besides he might get to go flying.

Eric smiled at that thought as he shaved away the almost nonexistent stubble on his face and chin and showered as fast as he could. Seeing as the situation sounded, urgent, he skipped over the thought of donning his khaki work uniform. He put on an olive green flight suit bearing the Osean flag, the patch of his unit, his plane and a brown leather patch with golden wings and his full title. Underneath he stuck with the usual red turtleneck shirt and cargo shorts. He went back inside the bedroom and leaned down over Misaki. She opened one eye and turned her head towards him.

"Aren't you supposed be going somewhere?" She asked with a grin.

"They can wait another minute or two." Eric said before he kissed her goodbye one last time.

"I'll be back soon, okay?" He promised. She smiled.

"I'll be waiting."

Eric grabbed his wallet, phone and keys before he went out into the kitchen and living room. He grabbed his beige peaked cap and set it on his head before leaving the one-bedroom apartment for the outside air. It was gloomy in the wake of another rainstorm, one of many that washed over the area during the latter months of the year. He walked to the end of the long balcony and went down two flights of stairs to the ground. Across a long, narrow lawn was a dark blue 1968 Mustang. Eric pulled out his keys as he jogged to the machine and hurriedly got it moving.

Most of the town was still asleep at the late hour and the sun wasn't even peeking over the horizon. The windows were almost all dark. Eric made his exit from the seaside town as quickly as he could by going two blocks inland and getting on Highway 18. It took him out of Altaria Bay proper and past several stands of beach and expansive fields of tall grass towards the hills to the west of the town. The Highway was busy with 18 wheelers and people going places after a late night. Eric guessed the holiday traffic was going to pick up again soon with New Year's Eve around the corner. He reached down for the radio and turned it on. For a second he considered switching to AM, but he decided he'd learn what was going on soon. Instead he settled for the local rock station.

As he woke up and got closer to his base, Eric became less annoyed with what was going on. It was more of a reluctant acceptance that he had to report back in, but it still worked. He tapped his steering wheel to the opening drum hits of "Kickstart my Heart" by Mötley Crüe. He about fifteen minutes away from town when he exited the freeway and headed back towards the coast. Positioned in the middle of a field about eight miles from the coast was an air base: NAS Altaria Bay. For Eric, it was his second home and the place from which he performed his dream job. He took a barren exit with only the basic signs telling him what was which way and turned left towards the base. After a winding to-lane road he turned left again towards the base and slowed to pass through security.

The first thing he noticed as he pulled up to the gate was the fact that security was no different than usual. The guards weren't in combat gear and they didn't have their M8 rifles on them; it was the same patrol caps, utility belts and USPs they almost always had. Eric rolled down his window and handed his ID card to a straight-faced Lance Corporal. He scanned the barcode on the back, and then gave the officer a salute after he handed back the card.

"Morning sir." He said in a crisp tone.

"Morning Lance Corporal." Eric replied, returning the gesture.

Inside there were no other signs of something big, not even a drill. The base seemed to be at its normal pace this early in the morning. As Eric turned towards a long row of rectangular buildings on what was called "Squadron Street". He looked at each parking lot and saw that the only buildings that seemed busy were that of VF-123, The Six Shooters and the squadron he was with: VF-138, the Red Ronin. Eric pulled up to the building and hurried out, laptop case and peaked cap in hand. He set the cap atop his head only to swipe it back off as he hurried inside. Eric slowed his pace and acknowledged the enlisted sailor behind the front desk.

He hurried down a hall to the left, moving past the pictures hanging from the walls and wooden doors to one labeled "VF-138 Weapons". Inside he was greeted by two Airmen, Benchelli and Solomon.

"Morning you two…where's Wall?" He asked, looking at the desk of Lieutenant Commander Wallace Newick.

"Hasn't come in yet, sir." The tall, wedge-shaped Solomon said. Eric nodded and took a seat.

Eric checked his inbox on the desk and found nothing, likely because of his leave. The other three members of VF-138's Weapons Department must've taken on the workload. Eric silently thanked them and then went to his email to see if there were any messages that would shine some light on what was going on. He sifted through what messages he hadn't read since he'd last logged on a few days ago. There was a calendar mention about an emergency briefing, but nothing, not yet anyways. He sat back and considered where he might get some info. The pilot stood up and walked to the window. He peeked through the blinds and saw that the launch pattern was empty. The pilot sat back down and looked up at Benchelli the man approached with an unsure look on his face.

"Sir, do you happen to know what's goin on? Like just an hour and a half ago we're were all getting calls to get our asses to work early." Benchelli asked in a hushed voice.

"I unfortunately do not, Airman Benchelli. On that note unless Wall says otherwise when he gets here, we're gonna look over some of the contingency plans we have on hand and make sure they're still solid. If we get any info before then we can narrow down things." He said, leaning his chair back further.

"Yes sir." The man nodded.

Eric checked his email again and considered going to Operations again when he saw its head, Lieutenant Commander Eduardo Cerrio, and its Junior Officer, Lieutenant Mark Walker, hurry by. He held off on that thought and stood up, walking to the map of the world posted next to the door. His eyes wandered about it as he tried to guess where trouble might've brewed. He looked over at the Peoples' Republic of Kaluga and the Persian Republic of Kedhan. Those places were the first likely candidate; part of the upcoming cruise would be helping to enforce the peace in Kedhan while hunting down weapons flowing in from the old Yuke satellites, namely Kaluga. The country had managed to refurbish and then sell off the old Yuktobanian hardware sitting in massive yards within its borders for years.

Eric looked at Kedhan and wondered if something had happened there. The place was still a mess even after the UN intervention in 2018. There were a dozen places that could be flaring up, in all honesty. What Eric needed was solid information from the squadron's intelligence department or something from Operations. He pulled up one of the contingency plans, which detailed emergency reactions to am Erusean invasion of Lenshire and Cordicovo. His mind got to what he and his department did; the pilot hurried to his computer and pulled up their weapons qualifications. They were cleared to deliver all of their normal weapons: air-to-air-missiles, guided bombs, radar-killing missiles, and all the other things they dropped and shot from their fighters. This close to the cruise, they were okay enough to deploy.

He looked up as he heard boots thumping against the floor. He looked up and saw two figures, "Fast Eddie" Cerrio and "Tex" Walker, hurry by. Almost right behind them was Eric's own departmental superior. Wall Newick hurried in and took a seat.

"Bring me up to speed, Saber." The balding man said as he busied himself with his computer.

"Well sir we've been readying for an emergency deployment. We've gotten out our contingency plans for review but we don't have any solid information on what's happened or where we're going. I've checked our weapons quals, too. We're all set wherever we go." Eric explained.

"I wish I could say where we're going too Saber but no one bothered to tell me either." Wall grimaced.

"Should I bug Ops?" Eric shrugged; Wall snorted.

"Yeah sure, and tell Fast Eddie he still owes me a case of Shock Top from CARQUALs."

With a smart salute and an "aye aye, sir", Eric left the room and went one door down to VF-138's Operations Department.

"Tell Wall he'll get his friggin mountain-man hipster beer when I figure out why the hell we're being recalled." Cerrio replied before Eric could knock.

"It's not "mountain-man hipster beer" you tasteless prick! It's a good casual drink!" Wallace argued through the wall. Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Anyways what can we do for you, Saber?" He added.

"We're looking to get info on what's going on, but seems you've already answered my question, sir." Eric replied.

"Deployment's getting moved up, obviously." Mark drawled.

The other two pilots gave him a "no shit" kind of look. Compared to the lanky blonde, his best friend Mark Walker was a towering individual with sinewy muscles earned from several summers on his Great Uncle's ranch and a desire to keep that physique.

"That wasn't supposed to be for another ten days, though…" Eric said, frowning at his friend. Tex looked at the two.

"Y'all manage to catch the news before yah came here?" Mark asked; Eric shook his head.

"I've been busy doing Department-level stuff."

Mark waved his friend over and typed away on his computer. When Eric came around he was greeted by a headline written in all-caps, bolded and underlined too.

"Kat emailed me the link on my way here. Ah've only seen the headline." Mark explained.

 **YUKTOBANIAN AND VERUSEAN FORCES CLASH AT THE BORDER**

Eric looked down at the following story. According to the piece, Verusean and Yuktobanian border patrols had engaged in a fight when a Verusean man had tried to cross the border to escape pursuing VBW soldiers. The sticking point was two-fold: who had shot first and a briefcase the now-dead Verusean man had been carrying. It apparently had some touchy secrets regarding Verusa's relations with Yuktobania. Then again, they'd been touchy since 1979; this was just the latest in a series of incidents. Still it was one of the first times Osea would be getting involved to help. The world of the post-Defense Force Osean military, Eric guessed with a shrug.

"Okay guys, we've got a briefing in thirty. Skipper wants current contingency plans ready and all qualifications up to date. We'll be meeting in the primary conference room." Eddie announced.

"Guess that's that; see you both in thirty." Eric nodded. The trio exchanged nods before Eric returned to his department…

* * *

As soon as he entered the briefing room, Eric made a beeline for the plate of croissants, sliced cheese and sliced lunch meat near the two pots of coffee. He hastily assembled two sandwiches and hurried to a table. The Lieutenant began wolfing down as much of the first as he could before anyone could approach him. Mark, one of the first to enter the room, approached him and cocked a brow. He then flashed a grin as Eric looked up.

"I didn't eat before I left and unlike someone my lady doesn't care if I do shit like this on occasion." He replied after he swallowed a mouthful of food. Mark snorted in amusement.

"Hey Ah've managed to convince her that it gives me fat to burn and tone my body with." He said as he walked around and took a seat next to his friend.

"Uh-huh…Well there's plenty to go around." Eric offered. Mark shook his head and took a sip from a Styrofoam cup.

"Ah just ate my lunch Ah'd packed for today early." He explained.

Eric paused and opened the manila folder he had with him to check for the umpteenth time if he had everything he'd been asked to bring. When he looked back up he heard footfalls to the right, approaching him. Eric looked back as two men in black polos and khaki pants walked up. They each had a blue rose on the right breast of their shirts with "Rosenthal Incorporated" written in stylized white letters beneath.

"Goldies." Mark nodded.

"Tinker Toys." The thinner of the two, Sarathi Sarkar, replied.

The two sat down at the table in front of Eric and Mark and looked around, appearing more like a pair of lost tourists than military contractors.

"Oh by the way happy late birthday to you, Mark. Me and Shamu'll buy you lunch." Sarkar added as he leaned against the wall.

"That'll likely be a raincheck." Mark replied.

"You guys know something we don't?"

The two pilots shook their heads. Neither was surprised that the two PMCs were just as in the dark as them, though. After a long ban from almost all operations following that, Rosenthal was finally nearing the day when it could rake in more money again. "Sharky" Sarkar and his partner-in-crime, Samya Suara, had been attached to VF-138 to observe and report. Eric thought they were okay guys. A bit cocky and too into the "merc" image with their pirate jokes, but okay guys. He had yet to see them in the cockpit, though. He went back to eating his impromptu breakfast. He looked at Sharky and Shamu as he finished the first sandwich.

"So if you two had to guess what's got us all together like one big happy family?" He asked the two contractors.

"My guess? Kedhan flared up again. Fucking place can't ever settle down." Shamu remarked flatly.

"I wouldn't be surprised by that, but I think it's Yuktobania and Verusa." Eric nodded as he eyed his next sandwich. Sharky cocked a brow.

"I thought you guys didn't know something we didn't." He asked. Mark smiled.

"We'd figured y'all would've had ample time to read the news." He said innocently.

"Har har har…so what's this about The Bear and The Dragon?" Sharky replied, looking at Eric.

"Mark showed me a story about them clashing over the border. Think about it: Yuktobania and Verusa both possess a nuclear arsenal capable of destroying each other a dozen times over. In this day and age, after the reign of Vincent Harling, we're no longer a bare-bones defense force and we're very close with Yuktobania now." The blonde hypothesized.

"So now we get to go pull em apart." Sharky nodded in realization.

"WE get to; y'all get to watch." Mark winked.

Sharky was about to retort when he saw Mark and Eric's eyes snap to the front of the room. Lieutenant Commander Kristen Bauserman, the squadron's executive officer (XO), stiffened to attention and drew in a long breath,

"Attention on deck!" She barked.

A chorus of boots slapped together as Commander Richard McGavin, the head pilot of VF-138, came marching down the center aisle. He turned towards Vixen and sent her to her seat with a quick thanks.

"Good morning everyone, sorry to gather you all back here early but world events demand our attention. For those of you who don't know, two days ago Yuktobanian and Verusean border guards clashed along their mutual border. The Yuktobanians recovered a briefcase from what they believed was a member of Verusa's Central Security Bureau containing some sensitive documents. These documents, in short, outline covert moves Verusa intends to make to shift Yuktobania's former satellites against it. The recovered documents reveal that the goal is to assert Verusean economic and political dominance in the south of the continent. Naturally, Yuktobania is rather upset about this…in fact they're very upset about this. Hack?" McGavin started, machine-gunning information almost too fast for anyone to follow.

At the sound of his callsign, Lieutenant Wayne Harper hurried up to the front and accepted the projector's remote he also pulled a laser pointer from his breast pocket. The image changed to a satellite photo.

"Okay, so here we see two of the primary motor pools for the 73rd Motorized Rifle Division at Keptuplask, in Southern Yuktobania. This pass was made six hours after the incident…" Hack drawled in his inner-November City accent.

Hack went on to a few photos showing details. Neat rows of military vehicles went from fence to fence for each pool, with small openings between each row to allow them a way to move in and out. At least a dozen were dotted by the shapes of human figures crawling about them. The image changed again; this time there were notably combat vehicles. Some were moving in single-file columns down a road between the two pool. At least a dozen canvas-covered trucks were scattered about the place.

"This is twelve hours after. Those trucks are dolling out ammo to the tanks. We believe they were fueled an hour or so prior to this photo…" Hack explained.

The image changed once more, and now showed a railyard. Several insets showed enlarged parts of the photograph. T-96 Main Battle Tanks and BMP-3 Infantry Fighting Vehicles secured to rail cars, formations of infantry waiting to board troop cars, and convoys of supply vehicles ferrying provisions to be put aboard boxcars.

"Similar things are happening in Verusa…" Hack commented.

They went through another series of photos, only this time detailing a Verusea airborne division being sent up to the north of the country. McGavin took over soon after; satisfied his squadron had the idea.

"The President has given the order to have a carrier group sent in, aka us. We've been ordered to do what we do best in peacetime and provide a deterring presence. President Suarez has issued us a statement stressing the need to ensure we remind both countries of their roles in world politics." The Commander said. Vixen raised a hand.

"With all due respect Skipper, why us? The _Harling_ and her battlegroup are forward-deployed in the Shimoji Islands." She asked when acknowledged. Nods seconded her curiosity.

"I wasn't told why, but if I had to guess? CINCPAC decided that it was the most logistically sound choice. Number of days til deployment beat out geographic distance this time." McGavin smiled. A ripple of laughter followed.

"Either way we deploy tomorrow. We'll treat it like a normal workday just before cruise, seeing as we have most of the needs for this venture covered. The only difference is we'll be developing a plan for operations in the Southwest Pacific. I want a training schedule, mission profiles, an ROE briefing, threat briefing and a reference we can refer to, contingency plans, the works. The schedule for briefings as well as the time for anyone who needs to update their insurance will be posted within the hour. Any questions on what we need to do?" The head pilot asked. Everyone had at least one burning question, but none of them were about what VF-138 needed to accomplish before it was shuttling from Altaria bay to its home at sea. They all stayed quiet.

"…Very well then, dismissed." McGavin nodded.


	3. Chp 2: The Long Goodbye

_Chp. 2: The Long Goodbye_

 _December 29, 2023_

 _Eric and Misaki's Apartment, Altaria Bay_

Misaki flipped through the lesson plans once again for her Spring Semester of Advanced World Literature. Misaki was looking forward to returning to teaching about her passion, but at the same time she always had apprehension. Sooner or later, each time she taught the class, there was someone who thought they were special because they thought they'd thought at a deeper level. While Misaki appreciated students to take initiative, she wanted it kept within reason. There was critical thinking…and then there was just grasping at straws to avoid an assignment. The worst part was the parents though. Misaki's fists balled as she thought about the parents.

Looking not to get caught up in the politics of high school education, Misaki snatched a crumpled and smudged piece of paper from the far end of her desk and re-read it, softly repeating the titles of the books on the list.

"Frankenstein, For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Pillow Book…" She mumbled.

She tossed the paper back onto the desk and went over a few discussion topics sheets she'd typed up. Beyond her office, she heard the front door open.

"It's me, Saki!" Eric announced tiredly.

"In my little hovel! Misaki replied, slightly preoccupied.

Eric turned the corner at the end of the short hallway and then took the first left. He walked in and wrapped his arms around her from behind, setting his chin atop her head.

"Working even oven Christmas Break? You're gonna wear yourself out, Miss Kuro." Eric said, feigning concern.

"Just reviewing some things while I'm free. She said.

When she looked up, she could tell that Eric was just as tired as he sounded. He seemed to be on the verge of dozing off while he hugged her. She reached up and poked one of his cheeks to get his attention. Eric's eyes widened with force alertness and he looked down.

"And you're going to wear yourself out, Lieutenant Bradford." She pointed out. Eric snorted.

"If the Navy wanted me to get lots of sleep they would've issued it to me." He replied, mocking the age-old adage.

"Then better get some off the books before you have to go back in."

"Yeah I'll probably do that…"

"What's wrong, Eric? You haven't said a word to me since you left and you look like you just stayed up all night."

"I've…got some bad news." Eric sighed. Misaki nervously toyed with the pen in her hand while Eric drew in a breath and stood up straight.

"There's a situation between Verusa and Yuktobania, and we're being called up to act as a deterrent. The deployment's being moved up and changed." He explained.

"I see…" Misaki trailed off.

She'd been prepared for the deployment, but that was mostly due to the fact that she was expecting a normal deployment with no immediate issues. She stood up and walked to Eric to embrace him. Eric pulled her into his arms and stroked the back of her head.

"Sorry Saki." He muttered.

"I can't say I'm happy, but it's part of the deal." She sighed. She kissed his cheek.

"I still enjoyed the time we did have." She commented.

He snuggled his head against the side of hers and ran his hand through her hair a few times. After a minute the silence got uncomfortable. A tension breaker was needed. Eric quickly plucked Misaki's glasses off her face and put them on.

"Hey lookit me, I'm a sexy bookworm from a romance novel!" Eric Bradford laughed.

"Eric! Give me back my glasses!" She protested.

Her boyfriend avoided her grasp and threw his arms around in a comically stupid manner. He then stood straight and pushed them up the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hmph, you have no idea how extensive my knowledge is on this subject." He said in a smug tone, pretending to be the archetypal "glasses character".

"Eric, I can't see without those!" Misaki protested, reaching for him futilely. She didn't dare move when she really couldn't see that well.

"Hmph, How rude. I'll have you know these glasses have been mine from the start." Eric said, remaining far away from her. He opened his eyes and squinted.

"Ack, okay that's enough. Hell Misaki, you must be practically blind at this point." He said, hurriedly taking them off his face and handing them back over to the pouting woman.

"Hmph, serves you right for taking them away." She said as she turned away, crossing her arms over her chest. Eric let out a single, loud laugh. She looked back at him and put her hands on her hips.

"Someone is dangerously close to being given the couch for his bed tonight." She observed. Eric smiled and hugged her from behind.

"Hey hey you don't wanna do that; it means you wouldn't get to cuddle with me one last time before I go sailing off." He pointed out.

"Hmmm, you do make an interesting argument…" the Shimoji woman replied.

"How about dinner tonight? We can go to Piccola Baia, maybe even go on a double date with Mark and Ekaterina?" He proposed. She paused and then nodded.

"Okay, your little stunt is forgiven in light of that." She said. He let her go and held up his fists in triumph; she sighed happily.

"Woo, I'll give Mark a ca-"

" _I'll_ coordinate with Kat; _you_ get your butt back in bed and sleep some more." She said. He paused, then nodded and gave a quick salute.

"Aye aye, Ma'am." He grinned.

Eric did an about face and strode out the room on his way to the comforts of an actual bed rather than a bunk. Misaki watched him go and turned back to her work. She considered the materials sitting on the desk for a minute, and then sighed. She walked out and to the kitchen to get some water and considered her attire for tonight and Eric's. She also decided it would be best to find out something, or rather a couple things. The woman hurried after her boyfriend and caught him as he was climbing onto the bed. He noted her movement and looked over his shoulder at her.

"What's up?" He asked.

"One, do you have slacks and a shirt for tonight?" She asked. He thought a second, and then nodded.

"On that note, I'm gonna cut my nap short so I can pack."

"Your call, also do you know if Mark went home?"

"He did; we're all released until 0400 tomorrow."

"Alright…I'll call Kat in about an hour. Maybe text her; she said she had a normal day at the office." Misaki mused aloud. Eric caught on as she left and he was fully on the bed.

"Oh yeah…well, good luck Mark. I've got nothing." Eric shrugged as he laid back down. A certain girl they both knew wasn't going to be happy about this sudden change in plans…

* * *

Mark felt like he was approaching the county hangman while he waited for Ekaterina Notlovich to answer. He checked his watch to see if he'd caught her during her lunch break. It was a little before one and he'd always known her break to be from noon to that time. Maybe the bakery was busy today with New Year's around the corner. He considered leaving a message when the other line picked up.

"Marky?" A Yuktobanian-accented voice asked.

"The one and only." Mark said with a small smile. He drew in a breath and sat down on the living room couch.

"Darlin, y'all know Ah love yah more than anything, right?" He asked. After a pause, apprehension laced her words.

"Yes, I know you love me more than anything, just as I love you more than anything." She acknowledged slowly.

"We got orders this morning. Due to tensions on the other side of the Pacific, we're being sent out tomorrow." He explained. She paused, and then let out a soft, pensive "I see".

"Ah'm sorry for calling y'all at work with it; Ah wanted y'all to know as soon as possible." He added quickly. On her end, Ekaterina responded to the addition with a sigh.

"Are you afraid of making me cry again, Marky?" She asked. Score one for his lady; Mark nodded.

"Yeah, considering this is the second time n' all." He shrugged.

There was a long pause. Ekaterina, who'd been in the small breakroom at the back of her workplace, sat down and took in a breath.

"Well…I'm not happy, but at least it isn't ruining the moment like it did last time.

"That's true…"

"Are you home for the day?"

"Yeah."

"What time do you have to leave tomorrow?"

"Early."

"…Hang on for a minute, Marky…"

Mark sat back and listened while Ekaterina set her phone down and walked away. He heard some faraway talking in Yuktobanian but wasn't able to translate much given the distance and the filter the phone caused. He sat down and mindlessly observed the blank TV screen across the room until he heard noise approaching through the device.

"I'm coming home, okay? If you're leaving I want to be with you." Ekaterina told him; she sounded distracted. Mark nearly jumped from his seat.

"Are y'all busy?" He asked with concern.

"This is an emergency…or well enough of an emergency in Nora's mind as well as mine." She explained.

"I will be home soon…you aren't going anywhere, yes?"

"Ah'll be right here, Darlin. Ah'll just be speed packing."

"Good, see you then."

They exchanged an "I love you" before Mark hurried to the bedroom and hauled a faded-green duffle bag from the closet. He went back into the small space and extracted several more flightsuits. He stopped as he pulled out a desert-tan one, and then tossed it with the others. It would be better to have it and not need it than to be without it and need it. Most of his bag would be filled with clothing and toiletries, but he knew he could jam a few things in that weren't exactly regulation. He texted Eric to coordinate things for their room. Who would bring the music, if they wanted to try and get any sodas or snacks the ship's store might lack before tomorrow, and if they wanted to carpool. He replied in slow, irregular intervals which he explained by mentioning he was trying to nap. He did agree to a discrete run to the local Shell to get some junk food, though. Misaki had insisted on driving him tomorrow. Mark agreed and decided he'd see if Kat would want to do the same.

Mark tried to focus on things other than his job as he packed but he kept coming back to it. His mind was returning to the situation at hand every few seconds, interrupted only by forced thoughts about his life outside his job. It was hard, especially with his position in the Ops department, to not think about the situation at hand. In what time they had, He and Fast Eddie had thrown together a basic plan, at least one that assumed things would still be peaceful when they arrived. They were coming from a firmly neutral standpoint; even if the Yuktobanians were friends, they weren't going to go causing trouble. They wouldn't have a complete plan before they got aboard though, not at this rate. Sometimes there just wasn't enough time to go in complete.

Then there was their potential adversary. As enough pundits (and Eric) had probably pointed out already, both countries had enough nukes to scorch the continent clean. They also had massive conventional armies, and the Yukes had a habit of keeping old gear around. The Veruseans were still holding on to a boatload of old tanks and guns too, but they were rising into place as a country with modern weapons. He'd likely spend weeks thinking over how to beat all that hardware. Mark heard the apartment's front door open and headed out the bedroom door to see Ekaterina. She tossed aside her purse and took off her coat before rushing to him. He swept her up in his arms and kissed her forehead.

"Welcome back, Darlin." He drawled. She snuggled against him.

"And an early Happy New Year." She added.

"Hope we have a billion more like em."

Ekaterina let him go and threw the bandana she wore at work with the rest of her things. She placed her hands on her hips at the sight of a stoic boyfriend and pouted. Mark frowned, this time at the unfairness of things. Kat's pouting was one of the ways she usually got through to him. He flashed the briefest of smiles, which did little to alleviate her worry. She sighed and walked past him.

"Misaki sent me a message when I got home. She wants to know if tonight we'd like to go out to dinner. Piccola Baia, to be specific." She announced. Mark looked towards the bedroom.

"What time?"

"Six."

"Yeah that works for me."

Ekaterina saw him smile a little more at the thought of being with two of his best friends and mirrored the expression. Hopefully to keep his spirits high, she tugged him towards the bedroom.

"Come now, we need to choose a dress for me to wear. I believe my usual gallery of commentators is going to be needed." She commented.

"We also need to make sure you dress properly. I believe we should make this a night to remember?" Ekaterina added. Mark smiled.

"Yeah, come on let's find the lady some appropriate evening wear." He said, scooping her up in his arms. She giggled.

"There is a much better attitude, Marky~"…

* * *

Piccola Baia, Cordicovian for "Little Cove", was a restaurant that occupied a sizeable chunk of the few shopping centers around town. It was at the end of an L-shaped strip mall, just across from the town's largest beach. Eric would've liked to have watched the sun go down from the patio on the side, but the area was closed off for the winter. Instead they were seated inside the dimly-lit dining room, "mood lighting" they called it. Eric liked it: the fake grape vines, candles in wine bottles, and Usea-esque decorum. His eyes drifted towards Misaki as she sipped a glass of wine. They exchanged smiles before Eric stabbed another piece of sausage and ravioli on his plate.

"Damn does this stuff taste even better than usual." Mark commented as he tended to his own plate of chicken alfredo.

"Took the words right out of my mouth. I need more Cordicovian in my diet." Eric agreed. Mark's girlfriend cocked a brow.

"I'm certain Misaki prefers her man to remain skinny. Too much of this and you'll be the opposite of that." Ekaterina replied.

"Oh come now, I can work it all off! I believe that, given the danger of my career, I am allowed to enjoy some of the finer things in life." Eric insisted.

"Ah'll drink to that." Mark nodded as he raised a red cup filled with Dr. Pepper.

"…I will also drink to that. Within reason; variety is important, especially in food." Misaki said, lifting up her glass briefly. Ekaterina succumbed to the majority opinion and swallowed a bite of her chicken prosciutto.

"It is true: one must learn to indulge oneself." She added as she lifted her own cup of soda. The four all took a pull before returning to their meals.

"I have also been meaning to ask you all something." Ekaterina asked. The others glanced towards her.

"How soon should we cancel our plans for the Shimoji Islands?" the blonde asked. Mark grunted in frustration.

"Forgotten about that…how close to it can we cancel?" He asked.

It bugged him that so much time and effort might be cancelled. The uncertainty of the situation made it worse. Though if nothing else, they could make sure no money was spent. He looked at Eric, who seemed to be thinking the same thing. Since Mark's assignment to the Pacific fleet, Eric had been excited about showing him where he and Misaki had met and the sights of "The Islands" in general.

"The hotel has a limit of five days and the airlines we can cancel the day before." Ekaterina spoke up.

"We should wait in that case." Misaki suggested. The others looked her way while she paused to eat some more between sentences.

"We don't know if we'll be able to make good on the reservations, Saki." Eric pointed out.

"We don't know if we won't be able to. I say we wait and not risk trashing all of this. How long have we planned this? Since Mark was assigned to the squadron." Misaki replied confidently.

"Are there any objections? We can still cancel later if we have to." She added with little pause.

"…Ah got nothing." Mark said, shrugging then chuckling.

"I agree with Misaki; it'd be a waste to do it now." Ekaterina added. Eric snorted and took a drink of his Coke.

"The "ayes" have it." He noted.

There was around of chuckles before they returned to their dinners. Eric had to agree that the food tasted exceptionally good tonight. He considered ordering a second dish to go, probably to eat for breakfast. His eyes were inevitably drawn towards Misaki again. As if to repeat things, he smiled at her again and she smiled back. The way the candlelight danced against her drew him closer. He placed his hand over hers and gently kissed her cheek. She returned the gesture to his lips and leaned her forehead against his.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too." She replied. They kissed again and enjoyed the feeling of holding hands until a voice from behind interrupted them.

"Ewwww gross, yer all kissin n stuff." Mark said, mimicking the voice of a child. Eric snickered and closed his eyes. He kissed Misaki again and looked at his friend.

"Thanks for killing the moment, Mark." He chortled. Before Mark could snark back, Ekaterina pecked his neck and turned his face towards hers.

"Now now Marky, I know you enjoy the "kissing and stuff" just as much." She sang. Mark replied by tugging her a little closer.

"But it's my job to give Eric crap, Darlin. Keeps him humble." He protested with a smirk.

"And vice versa." Eric agreed as he finished his meal. He glanced up at a speaker overhead, then at Misaki.

"Say…wanna dance?" The blonde asked as he held out a hand. His girlfriend looked towards the small dance floor at the far end of the dining room, and then nodded.

Eric led her to the dance floor and pulled her close, wrapped his arms around the small of his back. They slowly step back and forth, side-to-side, swaying with the string-heavy music coming from above their heads. Eric pressed his forehead against hers and blocked out the rest of the world. Over a decade with her and he still wasn't able to stop himself from falling into a sort of trance-like state. Then again, how could he not? She was the most important part of his life, and the one thing he couldn't stand to lose. They could strip him of his rank, of all his achievements and make him flip burgers at the local Denny's; he'd still have her. He felt her tighten her grip on his shirt and opened his eyes. Misaki looked a little tense.

"I'll be back, I promise." He whispered. She nodded and forced a smile.

"I'm still gonna worry myself to death.' She pointed out.

"Hey hey no going full Kat on me."

"Bite me, Eric Bradford. You belong to me."

Eric lowered his head until his mouth was near her ear.

"I'd love to do that and more, but we should pay the bill and get home before we do." He smirked. Misaki frowned.

"Dork." She remarked. He only smiled.


	4. Chp 3: To the Front

_Chp. 3: To the Front_

 _December 30, 2023_

 _Route 33, Southern Yuktobania_

The clank and grinding of tank treads echoed across the southbound side, mixed with the diesel engines of cargo trucks and jeeps. Civilian traffic heading south was confined to the far two lanes while the rest belonged to the Yuktobanian military. Civilians looked on in concern and curiosity as angular fighting vehicles rolled along, guns pointed up as if they were on parade. Yuktobanian soldiers, dressed for war, rode atop the armored vehicles or crammed into the backs of Ural-brand trucks. At the front of each group was a Yuktobanian GAZ jeep, painted in the markings of the military police. Light's flashing, they lead the bigger machine southwards towards what was fast become the biggest area of political concern. Already the Yuktobanians had five divisions mustering to head south. Among them were the men of the Yuktobanian airborne, the VDV.

Lieutenant Iosif Petrov, commander of 3rd Platoon, 2nd Company, 89th Independent Guards Airborne Regiment, maintained a staunch face as the BMD-4 he was on rolled down the highway. It was a cold, dreary morning; the kind that fueled the jokes about "General Winter" and the "inhospitable" climate of Yuktobania. The snow was still heavy on the ground; walls of it had been formed on the sides of the road from days of having snow plows clear the road. The airborne tanks and Ural-4320s easily pushed aside the slush still on the road. All Iosif felt was the occasional jolt when the vehicle slowed.

In his head, Iosif was unafraid. If the Veruseans wanted to throw themselves into the fire, Iosif would be happy to oblige. The prospect of a war between the two powers had secretly hung in the air for decades. More than anything, ideological differences had turned the two against each other. The Veruseans had grown to claim that they'd become the "purest example of socialism" while the Yuktobanians had "dared to stray and collude with decadent, plundering Capitalists". While Iosif was inclined to agree that it was not a good idea to be so closely aligned with the Oseans and their cronies, they'd crossed him when they'd threatened his homeland. Yuktobania had helped their peasant-poor militia start on the path to being an actual threat; how dare they claim to have usurped their only viable ally!

Out of the corner of his eye he noted a news van set up on the side of the road. The reporter had her back to the convoy as it passed. The blonde gave the BMDs behind him a glance and noted that his men were maintaining discipline. He smirked to himself beneath his balaclava and looked back at the reporter as she and her crew watched the paratroopers roll by. He was unable to hear a word he was saying over the engines, but he could only imagine. He looked forward again as the BMDs rolled on, south to join the growing standoff. He'd been told they already had several Verusean divisions moving up towards the border, most of them mechanized. Even if he was considered "light" infantry, Iosif had never seen much reason in fearing tanks. A fire was burning inside him that he had seen since his days at the academy. Since that damned Oseakanski had stolen his destined woman. Verusa could come; they could come with their hordes of infantry and even their hordes of Peoples' Militia troops. If they wanted to defile his home province, he would personally see their war end as they wept over their ruined capital…

* * *

Eric pushed open the door to the flightline, or ramp, of NAS Altaria Bay and waltzed into the cool early morning. He imagined that his dad had felt very much the same when he'd walked to his F-14 Tomcat in 1995. The only difference was that Ryan Bradford had known he was going to war; Eric Bradford didn't know what he was going to. Still, he kept his stride confident and aimed himself towards a line of jets sitting along the tarmac. They looked something like F-14s, except a bit smaller. As he got closer, the description of "swing-wing F-15" might've become a bit more appropriate. It's official name was the Northrop Grumman F-21A Thunderhawk; Eric had been flying the single-seat, variable geometry fighter since he'd reached active duty. He was one of those closet romantics when it came to aircraft, one that tended to look at the jets and get all poetic over them for a minute. He stopped short of the jets and waited for Mark to catch up while he did that. Tex Walker approached and pulled off a black cowboy hat before stuffing it into his helmet bag alongside his HGU-55 helmet.

"There, Ah wore the stupid thing." He declared aloud.

"Uh huh, sure." Eric nodded.

Mark grimaced that he didn't have a free hand to flip off his friend. Eric smirked in return before Mark shrugged and told Eric that he owed the man one middle-fingered salute. Eric let out another sarcastic "uh-huh" before he extended a hand.

"See you on the ship." He said; Mark accepted the gesture.

"Yep." He drawled.

Eric walked towards his personal F-21, "Shogun 208". The ground crew manning the bird wasn't his usual lot; they'd long left to board the carrier so they could be on hand when VF-138 landed with the rest of Carrier Air Wing Nine. A Plane Captain with VF-164, the Rangers, approached him as he neared his fighter.

"Good morning, sir. Petty Officer Third Class Baker at your service. My guys have your bird ready for inspection." She said, holding out a clipboard for him to see.

"Morning Baker; thanks for covering for Ruiz and his crew." Eric said before he took the object and gave it a once-over. She nodded and looked back at the machine.

"Good luck sir, and for Ruiz's sake make sure he sees his bird again." She nodded.

Eric returned the gesture and walked forward to his fighter. He set his helmet bag against the front landing gear and walked around the jet to inspect it. For the short trip he had a single AIM-9X Sidewinder, centerline fuel tank, and a travel pod, plus half of his plane's normal gun load. Their carrier, the _OFS James Wellington_ (CVN-34), was to the southwest of the base, in the general vicinity of Basset Space Center. At most it'd be an hour before he was aboard the ship. Eric checked every part of his plane, mostly to ensure it wouldn't come apart when he was airborne or when he slammed it down onto the carrier's deck. To his satisfaction the tires were solid and everything was holding together. He walked around to the front and grabbed his helmet bag, from which he extracted his own "brain bucket" and put it on. The bag was then stuffed in the travel pod.

Eric, now completely ready to get to flying, clambered up the boarding steps and into the cockpit. Baker followed him and helped him strap into the ejection seat. When he was securely in, she patted the top of his helmet twice to get his attention and flashed a thumbs up when he acknowledged her. Eric pulled down the visor for his helmet and waited until the boarding steps were secured to start the aircraft up. As he gave the F-21 power, gauges jolted up and displays flickered to life. He adjusted each of the three Multi-Function Displays (MFDs) to a different screen and then went to getting the engines started. The two GE 414s behind him let out a low whine which stayed steady and rose in both volume and pitch. Eric checked the RPMs and saw they were notching up steadily. He secured his oxygen mask over his face and keyed his radio as he lowered the bubble canopy over him.

"Altaria Tower, Altaria Tower this is Shogun 208…radio check, Altaria Tower." He called to the airwaves. He could hear familiar voices doing much the same as he waited for a reply.

"Shogun 208 this is Altaria Tower, radio check. You're coming in loud and clear." A voice from the structure down the ramp replied.

Eric looked around as his airplane was unchocked and cleared of any personnel. The only person who stayed close was a Plane Director, who'd positioned himself out in front of the Thunderhawk. Eric checked his engines again to make sure they were functioning at nominal performance.

"Altaria Tower, this is Shogun 208…request clearance to taxi to Runway 1-A Holding." He radioed.

"Roger that Shogun 208, you are cleared to taxi to Runway 1-A Holding."

"Thank you, Altaria Tower." Eric said.

Eric looked at the Plane Director, who'd also been tuned into the conversation via radio, and in turn gave Eric the signal to release his brakes. Once Eric relayed that as the case, he was beckoned forward and to the right. The Plane Director's part was quick; as soon as Eric was turning the sailor snapped to attention and rendered a salute to the pilot. Eric returned it and went on his way with the other jets that were rolling out to go fly. Intermingled with the tails painted black with red lightning bolts were the "Skywards Triangles" of the VF-138's sister squadron: VF-123. It seemed that the Six Shooters and the Red Ronin owned the runways for now. Eric fell in behind Newick in Shogun 207 as the line slowly grew shorter and shorter.

As he closed in on the Holding Area short of his destined runway, Eric brought the wings all the way forward and adjusted the flaps for takeoff. On instructions from the tower, he held short of the runway, and then worked all of his control surfaces to ensure his plane was still in working order. In the meantime his lone Sidewinder was relieved of its "Remove Before Flight" flag by ground crew nearby. When all was done he looked back towards the tower and got a "Looks good, 208" from one of the men up at its top. He looked back just in time to see Mark and Lieutenant Seth Rickles rolling out of his peripheral vision.

"Shogun 204 is airborne." Seth radioed.

"Shogun 205 airborne." Mark added seconds later.

"Roger that…Shogun 207, 208…taxi onto runway and hold." Altaria Tower instructed.

The two pilots acknowledged and rolled their planes into position. Delicately Eric positioned himself to make sure that Wall's Thunderhawk wouldn't clip his as he rolled forward. He used the "skunk stripe" of his plane's paint scheme to line it up just right. The two waited while their fellow pilots cleared the pattern before Wall took over the radio calls as the two-ship's lead.

"Altaria Tower this is Shoguns 207…request conditions and clearance for departure for myself and Shogun 208." He radioed. There was a brief pause.

"Roger that Shogun 207, wind is South-Southwest at 3 knots. Shoguns 207 and 208 are cleared for departure; have a nice day."

The replies were followed by the piercing screech of jet engines at full power. Wall's fighter rolled forward first, moving down the runway at mounting speed. Eric pushed the throttles up to full Military Power and felt the F-21 push forward. His body tingled a little with anticipation as the plane went faster and faster. Just ahead, maybe by a second, was his flight lead. Once again Eric felt romantic as he reached takeoff speed and pulled back onto the stick. It never got old he thought; not even after nearly six years of flying. The F-21 sailed into the sky, ascending with every second that passed. At Eric's command, the wheels came up, the flaps adjusted and the F-21's wings swept back, bringing it into a more arrowhead-like shape. Eric declared he was airborne and followed his section lead towards the coast…

* * *

A sound like a thunderclap shattered the cold evening, shaking part of the treeline as a blur race from the woods. Close behind a long, cylindrical form poked out, followed by the form of a tank. The boxy, low silhouette painted in a mix of green, brown and black emerged, bustle racks filled with extra gear. It moved at a steady pace, a charge of sorts. Its turret rotated to the left while what looked like the head of R2-D2's cousin swept back and forth from atop its turret. Its main gun rocked back again with another bone-shaking report, throwing up snow into a dusty flurry. The M1A2 (Sep V3+) Abrams slowed as it approached the veil of smoke its supporting artillery had laid down earlier.

Inside the bowels of the tank, Corporal James Bradford had his face pressed against the gunner's sights. Next to him the tank's loader, Corporal Luke Taylor, hurriedly took another practice round from the tank's magazine and slammed it into the M256A2's breech.

"Sabot up!" He bellowed over the intercom.

The ground before them sloped down, and everyone held on tighter as they felt the front of the tank dip. When they descended into the twisting, hilly terrain of the Sangai Maneuver Area he raised the barrel of the tank's main gun to keep it aimed towards potential threats. Their driver, Lance Corporal Jose Martinas, slowed the tank as it went down the slope

"Knight 6 this is Knight 3 Actual, we're descending into the valley!" Second Lieutenant Courtney Bettz radioed.

"Knight 6, Knight 2 is also entering the valley!" 2nd Platoon's commander radioed.

James rotated the turret back to the right as the tank leveled out and spotted the silhouette of what was supposed to be an enemy tank. He "ranged" it with the gun's laser rangefinder. The number "3800" appeared at the bottom left of his sights as he centered them on the target.

"Gunner identify, two o' clock! Tank, 3300 Meters!" He reported.

"Fire!" Bettz replied.

"On the way!"

James pulled back the trigger and watched the round obliterate the fake adversary. Already Luke was putting another round into the gun's chamber. He swiveled the gun to the left and caught a glimpse of another tank in Knight 3 as it destroyed another tank silhouette. He rotated the turret back and spotted small shapes on the horizon, near the far end of the range where the terrain started to go upwards again. Jose aimed the tank towards a defensive berm where the tank would position itself. James recognized the small forms of man-sized targets as Kourtney relayed the platoon's orders: hold and maintain fire.

"Gunner identify! Troops in the open!" He called over the intercom. He expectantly readied a finger to switch to the co-axial machine gun.

"Gunner, keep scanning! I'll hit the infantry with the Fifty!" Bettz ordered.

"Roger!" James replied.

As the tank slowed James popped smoke to cover their position. Through the swirling mist he could see several more silhouettes popping up. On their Lieutenant's command, "Izzy" Taylor and he fell into a coordinated, machine-like cycle. Load and fire, load and fire, load and fire. In the meantime she moved her remote-controlled M2 back and forth, peppering individual footmobiles with a few rounds each. Atop the ridgeline, geysers of dirt and dust were tossed up as the next round of artillery began. To the east of the two platoons of Osean Marine M1s, more tanks spilled out of the forest. Sleek, heavily-armored Type 10 MBTs of the Shimoji Ground Self Defense Force's 87th Armored Battalion descended upon the simulated battlefield.

As the Osean and Shimoji tanks formed their line, more vehicles followed in their wake. Type 89 Infantry Fighting Vehicles (IFV) and AAV-8 Marine Landing and Assault Vehicles (MLAV) burst from the woods, slowing towards positions where they would unload the infantry waiting inside. The artillery switched to using smoke rounds to cover the imminent assault on the hill. Neither James nor Kourtney could spot anything, at least not in their own sector anyways. Kourtney adjusted her boom mike and hit the switch to transmit to other tanks.

"Knight 3 Actual to Knight 3 victors, hold fire hold fire. Do not engage unless you spot a hostile; we've got infantry moving to secure Objective Horseshoe." She ordered.

"Knight 3-2 copies all." Staff Sergeant Nelson Benedict replied.

"Knight 3-3 copies all." Sergeant Corey Garvin chimed in.

"Knight 3-4 copies all." Sergeant Raymond Hughes added.

Behind them, ramps dropped and out poured battle-ready infantryman. James barely noticed them as they advanced past the tank on either side, pushing for shelled trenches that the imaginary enemy had once occupied. James pulled his face back from his gunners' sights shook his head. He rubbed some of the stiffness from his back before pressing his face to the padding around the device's eyepieces. He watched the individuals ascend the slope through the smoke. Out of earshot, through the radio Kourtney had, she could hear the flurry of calls as squads picked through the terrain. At this point, the M1 became little more than a fierce-looking piece of scenery that moved its turret back and forth.

"Spear 6…Spear 6 this is Joker 6, Objective Horseshoe is secure. Blue 6 reports they have established position atop Horseshoe as well, how copy?" A voice called out. There was a pause before an authoritative voice replied.

"Joker 6 this is Spear 6, message received and confirmed. Bravo Zulu." Colonel Aaron Miller, commander of the 10th Marine Regiment. Today he was also playing the boss of 3rd Tank Battalion's contribution.

With the word from Spear 6, the exercise ended. Like a director yelling cut, the suspension of disbelief evaporated, and infantry started marching down the slope towards their waiting transports in organized lines. Kourtney pushed open her commander's station hatch and let fresh air into the turret. She switched out the flags atop the tank's turret, trading a red pone for a green one.

"Good job, guys…Izzy, how many rounds do we have left?" She radioed to the rest of her tank, dubbed "Gaijin Kaiju". Luke hit the pedal to open the magazine.

"We went through about six Sabots and eight AMPs on that run, El-Tee." He replied.

"Alright, note it for the supply guys."

"Rog."

James pulled off his helmet for a second after he was sure the gun was in the "safe" position and scratched the back of his head. He felt the want to get outside and stretch his legs, but he could already here one of the Exercise Safety or Range personnel screaming "Hey, Devildog!" his way. He lifted his legs up as far as he could instead and reached for the ceiling of the turret above him. The toe of Kourtney's boot tapped the back of his head a few times.

"I heard that yawn, Bradford." The Lieutenant said.

"Yawn? Me?" The Corporal insisted, seemingly shocked at such an accusation.

"Yes you…alright guys I'm going to outside comms." She replied.

James put his helmet back on and adjusted his boom mike. The buzz from his inner "war junkie" was rapidly going down, returning him to the rather quiet 21 year-old man who hailed from Glennhill. For now his job was over as the tanks were organized for their road march off the battlefield. It also meant that his job was over until they returned to their barracks on the island of Kotori, at Camp Hazzard, and the tank needed to be given its inspection before it went back to sitting in the motor pool.

"Okay Driver, back up to the right and follow Knight 3-3." Kourtney radioed.

"Driver roger." Jose replied.

The M1 lurched back and rolled from its defensive position into line with the other tanks before it moved forward after Sergeant Corey Garvin's "Ultraman". The Marines of Charlie Company's 1st and 2nd Platoons exited the battlefield via a road to their left. As they turned, James raised the gun tube as if the tank were on parade to keep it pointed away from the tank in front of him. He also disengaged the Trophy system and smoke grenade launchers. He felt the tank transition from rough, bumped terrain to a smooth ride. Izzy, content to stay inside the tank rather than ride outside like their platoon commander, started whistling Perturbator; James joined him.

The M1s rolled away from the exercise area, crews eagerly looking forward to debriefing and ending the week-long exercise. A return from the field meant warm beds, fresh food, and the chance to use accumulated leave to explore the foreign sights of the Shimoji Islands. For many Marines this was the first time they'd left Osea. A select few had seen combat deployments to support peacekeeping efforts in Varcia or in the Persian Sea Region, but the battalion was otherwise made up of "cherries". For a great number, namely lower-level enlisted types, they didn't get as many luxuries, especially in another country. James was technically in that crowd; the last time he'd been here he'd been a dependent. That time Osea had been at war with Yuktobania.

Maybe Osea was gearing up to do something like that again, James wondered. He heard through the grapevine that something had happened between Yuktobania and Verusa, but nothing else. Apparently the whole region was getting stirred, but apparently not enough to warrant reaching out to anyone in III Marine Expeditionary Force (MEF). Well what could he say; it was the way of such things. Maybe his older brother could shed some light on things; Eric usually had his eyes on things like that. It'd be nice to see whether or not "The Frontline" stayed a Marine nickname for this assignment or not.


	5. Chp 4: Chess

_Chp. 4: Chess_

 _January 2, 2024_

 _Brighthill, Oured_

Since 1807, Brighthill had been the home and office of the President of the Osean Federation. The complex had evolved from the wooden manor into a blocky, U-shaped facility with only a few Victorian-era furnishings and other touches to make it a little more aesthetically pleasing. Among these was the garden, placed just outside the tall, narrow windows beyond the Presidential Office. President David Reyes stood at the window so many time, looking down at the garden, that one might think he was practicing for the cover of Time or some other case where he'd be photographed, looking out the window in deep thought. In reality the familiarity of the flowers helped relax him; his grandmother had turned the backyard of her home into a jungle of sorts. A jungle that he'd often explored as a kid. He needed his mind as clear as it could get in the midst of the latest crisis.

He'd guessed that people were still happy to trust him, what with this being his second term. Moderation was the desired approach after the polar opposites that had been Vincent Harling and Timothy Applerouth. Many didn't know the half of it though; the two had been far more than a president and vice president who'd never agreed. It'd been that hidden side to things that'd influenced David Reyes to take the approach he did. Things in Southern Verusa were happy to test that. Reyes would've thought it to come at the worst time possible, but the truth was that there was no worst time. There was just the time that it happened and what problems it piled up with. The perpetual cycle of domestic issues was becoming less and less of a surprise, too. Those would have to wait though; the threat of nuclear confrontation trumped all. President Reyes turned towards the other people gathered in the rectangular office. They all looked a little tired from the sudden end in the holidays for them. He felt their pain no one, not even the president and his cabinet, wanted to conduct business during the holidays. Still, they had a job to do and the world didn't always take the day off. Reyes turned towards them fully and cleared his throat.

"Okay, so we have that carrier group on the way?" He asked a man in Service Dress Blues. Admiral Marcus Snow, Chief of Naval Operations, nodded.

"Yes sir, and their timetable still stands. They'll arrive on station in about four days. We plan to keep them at a distance to avoid inflaming things but not so far that their ballistic missile defense capabilities are negated." He replied. Reyes turned and moved towards his desk.

"Good, that's something. Snow I want an honest opinion from you: is this one carrier going to do much to sway either side?" He asked as he sat down.

"It's the best response we can give outside of conjecture, sir. Militarily one carrier group won't be able to stand against both Verusa and Yuktobania. However it shows we have our eye on the situation. The typical deterrent power of a carrier group; outside of that is a world above my paygrade." Snow replied. Reyes nodded and looked towards men sitting in the chairs opposite the couch Snow was on.

"That's true. Speaking of which, Sato have the Yuktobanians or Veruseans responded to our calls for a dialogue?" the president asked.

"Verusa is being itself and demanding that we condemn the Yuktobanians while the Yuktobanians are demanding we back them and push the Veruseans to stand down." Satoshi Uragami, the Osean Secretary of State, replied flatly.

"It's still all words though, correct? Excluding the deployments?"

"Yes sir. Neither side seems to want to be the one to pull the trigger in this case, which bodes well for the rest of us. Still that can change. I made sure to emphasize that the option for dialogue remains open and that we'll make efforts to ensure it's in a neutral state."

Uragami stood up and handed a folder to Reyes. The man took it and opened the object to get a glance at what was inside. It contained a few basic but formal proposals as to where the quarrelling parties would meet. Reyes nodded in gratitude.

"Ambassador Clark assures me that she's also busy building a case for the upcoming meeting of the UN over this. It's nothing new but we're hoping to remind the two powers of their responsibilities in this world and get others backing us through the nuclear angle as soon as possible." The Shimoji-Osean nodded.

"And those are our only diplomatic options right now?" Reyes asked. Uragami nodded.

"The only effective ones, Mr. President. Sanctions aren't going to do much, especially against Yuktobania. We also have to consider our need to avoid pushing the Yukes away again."

"And the Veruseans?"

"Verusea will get angry whichever way we go, unless we completely back them. Without all the facts that's a very dangerous path to take as I'm sure you're aware, Mr. President. Furthermore it is my opinion that we cannot simply give into their side of things because we want to seek a quiet solution. If anything we'll likely find ourselves backing the Yuktobanians or, hopefully, wagging our finger at them both."

"Our concern should be more for the wellbeing of the world than of any ally." Reyes replied, both to himself and his cabinet. The man raised a fist and tightened it in frustration for a minute. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

"Everything alright, sir?" Snow asked cautiously. Reyes eyes opened and he looked around.

"Someone bring me some water and some Tylenol or something." He grumbled. The man drew in a breath and nodded again.

"And a meeting with Prime Minister Krayevsky is out of the question, I suppose." He asked.

"Meeting with either party separately now might anger the other…though Yuktobania is our ally so we may find ourselves forced to deal with them before we deal with President Wáng-Xú." Uragami replied.

"So for now our best bet is the UN…very well then. Who can we swing behind us on this situation?"

"The ambassadors from the Shimoji Islands, Songola, Romny and Kedhan have all agreed to back us in seeking a peaceful resolution. Clark and I intend to discuss things more in detail with them over the next two days."

Reyes's Sapinish-Osean features contorted into a soft smirk.

"There's a reason why I chose you, Satoshi." He said.

The President looked towards Snow again, as well as the other unformed men gathered around the map of the world and the drink table next to it.

"That being said, what are our best military options, General?" The President asked.

"Besides the _Wellington_ , sir? We'll likely deploy the _Harling_ and using certain elements of Osean Forces Songola-Shimoji Islands." General Fredrick Welsh, Chairman of the Osean Joint Chiefs of Staff, replied. Reyes leaned forward in his desk to show he was listening.

"For better or worse our military options are more varied." Secretary of Defense Janet Hanesworth added. She and Uragami exchanged reluctant looks in regards to the truth.

"They are, Mr. President. Now all of these plans assume that we're defending Yuktobania. As I mentioned our initial response would be in the form of at least two to three carrier groups positioned off the coast of Southeast Yuktobania, or possibly in the Sea of Shimoji. Unless allowed by their host nations, aircraft stationed in the Shimoji Islands and Songola would have to either be moved to new bases or we'd have to deploy aircraft from elsewhere to help." Welsh started. He looked towards a skinnier man in Air Force dress blues.

"Al, how much could we get in-country in a reasonable amount of time?" He asked.

"We could deploy at least one Air Expeditionary Wing in 48 hours. Sand Island could have B-1s or B-2s forward deployed to it in about that time." General Alexander Reese answered after a second of thought.

"This all rests on where the Yukes could make room to base us. They've moved several units south to reinforce the units they normally have in the region." He added.

"We'll deal with it if it becomes an issue." Welsh replied. He looked back towards the president.

"What about troops on the ground?" Reyes asked.

It'd often been reiterated to him that major wars were won by airpower alone; it was one of the details he could recall without being reminded by his advisors. Moreover a war this major would no doubt call for them. Marine Commandant General Austin Rooster had the answer.

"Our initial forces would consist of 3rd Marine Expeditionary Force in the Shimoji Islands. They're positioned there for this kind of contingency and they're the closest available forces we can deploy. 25th Cav is more or less anchored to its mission in Songola."

"How soon would they arrive in country?"

"72 Hours, sir."

"Who else would we deploy?"

Gears shifted back to General Welsh.

"The 16th Airborne Corps consists of the 29th Infantry out of Cascade Forks, the 5th Infantry out of Halewood, the 8th Mountain at Fort Revenant, and the 101st Airborne out of Fort Myers. They would also have a number of supporting units and attached Special Forces. The 8th and the 101st would get to any trouble spot the fastest while the rest would follow suit. It takes time to move a mechanized division, I'm afraid." He said, poking at the scar on the edge of one of his eyebrows.

"The Yuktobanians would be able to wait that long though, yes?" Reyes asked.

"In all likelihood we can conclude they will, Mr. President. The Yuktobanians are not as expeditionary a force as us and admittedly they still have some very old gear, but they're capable and they have the material needed to stand against any invasion by Verusa."

The President nodded and sat back. The military options were more numerous than the diplomatic ones, which wasn't comforting. Neither could be made without stirring someone, but that was something that would do more damage if they tried to avoid it rather than deal with it. Reyes wasn't looking to start a war, but he trusted Welsh. The man had served under Harling as a junior officer, and hadn't been given his rank because of political favor or leaning. Welsh was a realist and a thinker. The same went for the others; Reyes leaned eyed the army officer.

"So we have a lot of what we can do, General. What do you suggest we actually do?" He asked. Hanesworth cleared her throat.

"I would like to add, on the behalf of the General, that endorse his proposal." She said when acknowledged. Reyes cocked a brow.

"He already has something?"

Hanesworth's thin face remained the same.

"He felt it would be beneficial to do so in the interest of not wasting time."

Eyes went back to the Chairman of the JCS. The General nodded and leaned forward, intertwining his fingers.

"Mr. President it is my opinion that the 101st Airborne be alerted to a possible deployment and that Osean Forces Songola-Shimoji Islands also be alerted as well. They need to be ready to move in case something happens. OFSSI already maintains a heightened alert status but we'll outline what we need them to take note of in particular. No forces should be sent with the _Wellington_ at this time but they should be ready to move if needed. It is also recommended we talk to the Yuktobanian Defense Ministry about the situation to better coordinate our defense." Welsh said. Reyes frowned.

"General I believe you are aware of the stance we're trying to take on this." He said. Welsh nodded.

"I am aware Mr. President but the fact of the matter is that if a war starts we'll be siding with the Yuktobanians if we get involved. Also, I'd like to get on the phone with George Ross over at Fort Beckworth and talk to him about what we can get as far as Special Operations guys. Snow, for now the _Wellington_ is your show but I wanna be kept in the loop."

"Understood General; the battlegroup commander is due to talk to me when his command takes up station." Snow commented.

"If I may add my own two cents, we should see about getting a pair of Rivet Joints from Beech-Forrest deployed to Kotoko over in the Shimoji Islands." Reese added as soon as his naval counterpart was done.

"Admiral you mentioned BMD; thinking about something we may want to consider?" Hanesworth pointed out.

"If so, Snow, I'll need to make a call to Basset." Reese replied, flawless switching who he was addressing. The discourse was interrupted by the Commander-in-Chief loudly clearing his throat.

"Alright alright that's enough. Let's not get ahead of ourselves." He said loudly. When they'd all finally settled down he straightened up and drew in a breath.

"Let me put it this way, everyone. I want a formal proposal so we have everything needed organized and in one place to make ordering it as smooth as possible. Copy for me and for Secretary Hanesworth. I want it done by this time tomorrow, if not sooner. Uragami I want us to meet daily until the UN affair, if possible. Even if all you have is "nothing new, Mr. President", understood?"

The Secretary of State nodded, as did the others. Finally, an aide came in with a bottle of water and the aforementioned headache medicine. It was a little late now, but Reyes accepted it. He dismissed the others and quietly considered if he should call it a day early. He also stowed the medication in his desk for if he decided to stay up until the Director of the CIA made his next call from Isara to brief the man…

* * *

The Hongqi L5 rolled past the main gate of Federation Hall and into the vast square that proceeded the complex proper. The square was quiet, save for a few tourists coming to observe the famous site. The only others were Federation Liberation Army Guards, stone-faced as they marched across the gray cobblestones. General Qiang Chen, Vice Chairman of the Central Military Commission (CMC) sat in the back of the black car as it went left to circle around the center of the space, in the middle of which stood a bronze statue of one of the country's instrumental leaders into the era of communism: Mao Zedong. The image that'd been erected was that of the man talking to his fellow Veruseans from a humble perch above them, showing the image of a man leading his flock, informing them, and validating their cause. How ironic it was that a system that lauded itself as for the common people would have a statute of their first communist leader standing above them all. Chen would never certainly point out that fact; the repressed memories of 1989 were still fresh in some of the older minds and youths were finding every way they could to reference it.

Especially not now; the 75th year of the Peoples' Federation was looming and due to be recognized this summer. Three quarters of a century; it was the longest that a nation following Lenin's teachings had survived. Chen wasn't interested in examining his system or even celebrating though and he was certain his masters wouldn't complain. He was here because he needed to be for some very important steps in the affairs of his country. The man picked up a black attaché case and his peaked cap as the limousine slowed before the main steps of the hall. The two Raeton sedans escorting the limo stopped and men in grey overcoats and sunglasses, all looking almost completely identical, stepped out. Chen briskly left his limo behind with little more than a curt farewell to his driver and hurried towards the steps. He pulled open one of the many doors to the lobby of the building and walked to a circular desk in the middle of the marble floor. A bright-faced secretary in dark blue nodded politely and greeted him.

" _Jiǔyǎng_ , General Chen; I was told you would be arriving. May I see your papers?" She said.

" _Jiǔyǎng_." He replied breathlessly as he reached into an interior pocket of his coat and withdrew what looked like a passport.

"Are there any messages for me before I proceed?" The mustachioed officer asked.

"None General." She replied without looking away from her computer. The woman quickly handed back his identification papers along with a silver badge with "Senior Official" written in Verusean characters on it.

"I believe you know which way to go, General?" The woman asked. Chen nodded and started down the hall.

"Yes I do, thank you." He said as he walked.

The General walked down a long, arch-shaped hall to several elevators. With the 75th anniversary this year, the halls of Verusa's capital were as busy as those of Osea or any other democracies might have been. Most of those walking about were young members of the party hoping to curry favor and eventual advancement within the system. Chen had to admit he didn't like the level of chaos; he was glad it would soon be quieter. He came to the third one on the left and rode it up two floors. As he exited, he was at the end of a long hallway with maroon carpeting. He approached a guard behind a desk and made sure his badge was visible. The man picked up a phone, pressed a single button, and informed whoever was on the other end of the line that the man was here. After that two guards escorted him down the hall before positioning themselves on either side of the door and rendering salutes. The man did the same and walked in.

The meeting room was in the interior of the building, away from windows and other spots that could be deemed "vulnerable" In face the "room" next to each part of this was there for the sole sake of protecting the center. Otherwise it looked like a normal meeting room you'd see in this part of the wall: polished Oak table, immaculate chairs, and pictures of distinctly Verusean things like its landscape or famous citizens, and flags of both the party and the country at the far end. Chen took a seat where his name was and took a second to relax. He helped himself to a glass of water from the center of the table. There was nothing else to do but wait now. Chen had only gotten here first because he had little to do.

It wasn't long before other members of the meeting began to gather. The heads of the Ministry of Commerce, National Defense Mobilization Commission, and the Ministry of State Security were all present, as were the men directly under Chen: The heads of the Army, Navy, Air Force and Strategic Rocket Corps. Chen's subordinates were seated around him while the opposite side was taken by the more civilian types. Chen said little to his fellow officers while the waited for the final member of the meeting. He was still focused more on himself and coming to terms with what they were going to do. The last time the People's Federation had open gone to war had been 1952, and then they'd had a clear cassis belli. It wasn't that he didn't believe in the cause; his concern was who'd they be facing and the lack of experience the modern Peoples' Liberation Army had.

" _Shàngshēng!_ "

At the sound of the guards' Type 56s carbines were added to by the chairs being moved. The officials stood at something that looked like Parade Rest while President Wěi Wáng-Xú entered the room. Wáng-Xú marched in with his usual content look and the smile that he'd often given the public. He was a short, barrel-shaped man with a very squarish face. The President motioned for the others to sit down and took his place at the head of the table.

"Good morning comrades. I am certain that you all have been informed prior why this meeting has been called. The situation in the region has become very tense and we must discuss our path from here." He said.

An aide came forward and placed folders before each man while they got glasses of water or requested cups of tea. Wáng-Xú gave them a few minutes to look through the contents of the sealed folders before he spoke. While they read, several of the men were approached by aides, especially the military men. The situation with Yuktobania brought almost constant monitoring.

"Comrades, it is no small matter when I say we are at a very important point in our history. As a nation, we face a very problematic situation as the capitalist nations of the world use their ways to strangle those who have embraced freedom. Minister Guo can explain." He began. The beanpole who headed the Ministry of Commerce nodded.

"Yes comrades, the rise of our neighbors as economic powers has caused us increasing trouble. Electronics, manufacturing equipment, consumer goods, entertainment and cars have become the top exports of Songola and the Shimoji Islands. Since 2010, Yuktobania has seen a great increase in the sale of natural gas and of raw materials. This is causing fewer and fewer foreign parties to trade with us or buy our goods." He explained. The rest of the gathered group nodded; despite their ideological differences, the Veruseans had often relied on many different kinds of customers.

Chen knew all too well that Verusa's economic situation was struggling. It'd been felt in the armed forces since it had begun. There was an influx of recruits, many looking for a stable life, but the country's military might was shrinking little by little. The Chengdu J-20 was in limited use, guarding the capital and the most important strategic assets in the country. The Shenyang J-31 was stagnant, likely never to enter active service, well over a quarter of the country's Main Battle Tanks were older Type 96s, and the country's attempt to get its first aircraft carrier was going in circles.

"Years of trying to forge more favorable situations have failed, thanks to Songolian hatred of our nation and the Shimojis' penchant for outdoing its competition." Guo went on. He sat back in his seat.

"I do believe I needn't say more, Comrade President." He nodded respectfully.

"You are correct. Comrades, we must do something to ease away this situation. The people grow restless, and with restlessness may come thoughts of treachery. They will surely blame us, and see it fit to follow in the steps of those who overthrew our fellow revolutionaries in Kaluga and Romny. We have debated this many times and have only prepared to do something. It is therefore that I am giving the final approval for Operation Golden Mountain." Wáng-Xú said, stabbing a finger against the tabletop several times.

"We must preserve our nation by stopping the evil practices of those around us. They must not be allowed to bully us into submission and recession any longer!" He finished. There was a round of light applause before Chen leaned forward and looked around the table.

"Pardon my objections, comrades, but are we economically capable of launching this invasion?" Chen asked. Minister Guo arched an eyebrow in surprise.

"I must admit you are the last person I would expect to hear say that." President Wáng-Xú said first. Chen noted the growing annoyance on his taut face and nodded in apology.

"Comrade President, I mean no disrespect. I simply want to make sure we will not simply destroy all we've worked for and built. We are men who love Verusa; it is our duty as socialist patriots to preserve her." He said. Wáng-Xú seemed to tense further, and then relaxed with a smile.

"A most noble concern, Comrade General. I believe that Minister Guo can provide the answer." He said. Guo nodded almost immediately.

"I believe we can, given the timetables of the plan. A wartime economy may also stir the patriotism of the people if they feel better times are soon." He insisted.

"Do you have any further concerns, Comrade General?" Wáng-Xú asked.

"None. At this point my concerns are ones that are a natural part of my job. We face a very powerful enemy, but not an invincible one. So long as Yuktobania stays out of the conflict, then we will not be overwhelmed." He said. Chen looked towards Minister Chao-Kuan, head of the MSS.

"I can assure you they will not intervene with the issues over Romny and Kaluga's seizing of Cold War-era weapons storages. While an ally of Osea, they will only attack should we attack first. The forces the Oseans have sent are focused only on the situation with Yuktobania." He made clear in a very robotic fashion. Wáng-Xú nodded and glanced towards his generals again.

"I am expecting a great deal from you all, comrades. We shall help carry the torch, but the destiny of this nation is yours to secure." He said.


	6. Chp 5: The Bloodless War

_Chp. 5: The Bloodless War_

 _January 23, 2024_

 _23,000 Feet above the West Pacific_

Eric burst through the clouds in pursuit of the MiG-29SMT Fulcrum, head on a swivel as he entered the open sky again. There was no telling if his opponent had managed to make any serious maneuvers to counter the F-21. He checked behind him and then looked out in front again. His eyes spotted a dark form ascending away from him at his two o' clock high and Eric natural gave pursuit. He pushed the throttles forward and pulled the stick back and to the right. The fighter obeyed and banked up and right. The Fulcrum nosed over to the left after a second and started a dive towards the ground. Eric slowed and yanked the stick to the left, bracing against the onslaught of Gs. His jet slid outside the Fulcrum's turn, forcing Eric to rely on his HMD for an attempt at lock.

He reoriented his nose in the same direction of his gaze, craning his neck to keep the Fulcrum in his sights. Through his eyes, a green circle chased the Target Display (TD) Box surrounding the MiG. The Fulcrum slowed against the pull of gravity and went into a hard left, pulling into level flight as it got towards the lower clouds. As it did, the plane rolled right and deployed flares to delay Eric's lock. The Osean gulped but kept patient as the chase descended down to 19,000 Feet.

"Shogun 3-2, say status." Mark drawled between deeps breaths.

"Shogun 3-2 is engaged offensive with one bandit, 3-1." Eric grunted.

The MiG leveled out briefly as it headed north, rebuilding energy from its maneuvers. Eric kept slow and tried to use the opportunity to lock onto the MiG but was again foiled by flares. He hit a button on his control stick and switched to his M61A2 cannon. The symbols on his HMD-HUD charged to a circle with a dot in the middle. Eric worked the throttles and rudder pedals to slid down and behind the Yuktobanian as it went right and then snapped to the left to overwhelm Eric. The Osean reversed, using the distance between them to try and foil the maneuver. He held on tight as they went through a roll, trying to get the F-21's nose on the MiG-29's forward path for a guns kill. He moved with the jet, adjusting his body's position in the seat as the two fighters pushed the limits of what they could do. Eric felt his heart pounding in excitement. It was the purest form of what he'd been trained to do; he had a massive grin on his face.

The two fighters seemed to be tumbling through the sky as they expended energy. Eric kept on his opponent, determined to finish things here. As his speedometer went both ways, he forced the nose into the position he wanted. The MiG pulled to the right and started to look like he was going to try a tailslide; his nose seemed to be pointed up while he was in the near-horizontal. Eric knew better though, and figured the guy was trying to go back up and get some space between them. No sane pilot did a tailslide even in a mock fight, and especially not a pilot in the Yuke VVS. Eric's gaze went towards the very top of his canopy as the two jets rode through one very hard right. The MiG cut back and put Eric in a very awkward position. They were really dancing around the limits of what aircraft could do. He reversed and kept the gas up; he needed speed to push against the effects of maneuvering. So did the Yuktobanian as indicated by a sudden roll into a dive. Eric leapt at the chance and pulled back on the throttles before bracing and swooping down after the Fulcrum. Eric coaxed his plane into position and keyed his radio.

"Trigger down…trigger down…trigger dooownn…" He called. There was a pause.

"Shogun 3-2, guns kill on the diving Fulcrum." He added as the two planes started to level out. The MiG slowed and broke away.

"Confirmed…Kvant 1-7, you're dead." An E-2D Hawkeye to the southeast over the carrier radioed.

As the Yuktobanian exited the fight to push to the holding pattern, Eric rolled level and shot upwards in search of the other half of the fight. He spotted two dots flash by a cloud and glared down in search of his friend and the other opponent. He went to the left and hooked downwards to get closer to where he'd seen the two objects. As he looked up he saw them zoom out of the space between two clouds.

"Shogun 3-1, Shogun 3-2 is coming in from your four high!" Eric called.

He swooped down and rolled so he come out of the dive facing the right way, working the throttles so he'd lower the F-21 into the typical wingman position at Mark's seven o' clock. The MiG snapped to the left, and then suddenly leveled out. After a second, just as Mark was on top of him, the jet went into a very gentle Split-S. The two Osean jets followed the fighter through the maneuver. Eric was starting to grow unsettled at the MiG's pilot sudden change in aggressiveness when he got the answer.

"Kvant 1-8 has almost hit bingo fuel. Repeat, Kvant 1-8 is at Bingo Fuel." The radio chirped up.

There was a minute's pause as the MiG out ahead leveled out. The pilot sounded frustrated at the sudden end to what had likely been a good fight. A minute later Mark was on the net.

"Yeah we really tore it up today all. Okay let's knock it off for now…Shogun 3-2, form back up on me." He said.

The aircraft formed back into their appropriate pairs above the sea and held in a loose fourship for a second until the proper clearances were made in the sky. It was a bit crowded today over the region as military and civilian traffic navigated the less-than-ideal weather. While they were waiting, the pilots took the chance to examine their own planes and each other's. The MiG-29 was one of the few foreign planes that drew serious interest. It was a brute of a fighter, and honestly was one of the cooler looking Yuke-built aircraft in the skies.

"Kvant has been cleared to head back to Noly Namvia. Have a nice day, Shogun." The lead pilot spoke up.

"Roger that Kvant, and dasvidaniya." Mark said.

Eric reached forward and fiddled with the GoPro to the right of his HUD. He pressed down the button to get a photo, then looked over as one of the Yuktobania pilots was doing the same. Eric grinned under his mask and held up a three-fingered victory sign. The Yuktobanian pilot closet to him gave a thumbs up before the two jets departed and headed back towards the mainland. In the meantime the two F-21s circled around and aimed their jets to the southeast, towards the _James Wellington_ …

* * *

There was something unsettling about the Landing Signal Officer's Platform for Shamu. The way it jutted out from the very edge of the deck made him feel like he was maybe one wrong move from falling into the ocean. Each time the wind pushed an especially strong gust across the deck, he tensed and made sure he was firmly planted on the ground, or deck as the sailors kept reminding him. He raised his binoculars as the radio told the people gathered on the platform that the first aircraft returning from the morning's launch cycle were returning. Out of the twenty aircraft they'd launched from the carrier, six were returning in the form of two F-21s and four F-35s who'd gone out on training flights. The shapes soared over at two different altitudes once before turning to the left. Shamu looked back at Ronda Jorgensen, who had a black telephone to her ear, and returned her nod. He looked back up and watched as the jets came around again and one of the F-21s split off.

Shamu looked back while the fighter descended, extending its wings, landing gear and tailhook. Towards the bow, a single MH-60S Seahawk lifted off and moved into position off the port side of the carrier. Shamu checked to make sure "Peaches" was taking notes (as best she could in the wind) and then looked forward again. VF-138's Landing Signal Officer, "Stickler" Rickles, stepped forward to bring the jet in. The man raised his handset to his face and raised a device in his right hand called "The Pickle".

"Thunderhawk on approach, call the ball!" He hailed. Shamu quickly raised his own handset.

"Thunderhawk 205, ball…state is point one-three." A familiar twang sounded.

The F-21 went several miles into the distance before it swung around into the imaginary corridor behind the ship that would lead down onto its deck. Behind them, the Mirror Landing System, the "Meatball", came to life. Rickles looked back briefly then keyed his handset.

"Thunderhawk 205, call the ball." He ordered.

"Thunderhawk Ball." Mark replied.

The F-21 came in at what seemed like a slow rate, growing bigger to those gathered on the platform a little each second. Shamu looked back to help him get an idea of what was a good position to approach the carrier from and what was too high or too low.

"Powwwerrrr…" Rickles stressed.

Shamu looked back at Mark's F-21 started to rise up. The video afterwards would give him a better idea but that was getting too low.

"Okay that's enough power, ease her up and drop a little!" Rickles interjected, conveying urgency without yelling.

"One mile." Rickles added.

The whole affair was actually very mundane from this angle, at least until the last few hundred feet. Rickles grew tense as did the rest of the LSOs. Shamu glanced towards the escape chute at the edge of the platform and then looked back at the Thunderhawk as it came down, engines whining.

"In the groooove…" Rickles said over the rising noise. Rickles took a wide stance and swept his arms out like an umpire.

"Looks good!"

With a sudden roar the F-21 went to full power even as its tailhook caught the third wire. Inside his jet, Mark braced until he felt his aircraft restrained on the deck. He powered down and let the arresting wire drop to the ground before a Plane Director ushered him clear of the landing area. Shamu looked back as the next F-21, Eric's, was already coming around to make its approach. It was a near-eact copy of Mark's approach, and like clockwork Rickles switched places with an LSO from VFA-149, The Gladiators, so he could take over the job. It was an irritatingly mundane routine for the contractor. The thought that a situation between three major powers where the tension was clear could feel so opposite of tense out a bad taste in his mouth. It felt like no one was taking it seriously at all. He reckoned himself joker, sure, but he knew (most of the time) when to be serious and when to be silly.

For Mark it was just like another cruise through the postwar seas of the Persian Sea. It was probably like that for a lot of the people in the air wing. His Thunderhawk was positioned on the center starboard elevator to be taken down to the hangar deck. The aircraft was held there while Eric's was also guided over so the space would be full for the ride down. Their respective ground crews hurried to the machines to tend to them. Despite the fact that they'd been on a peaceful mission, both aircraft had carried two Sidewinders and a similar number of AIM-120D AMRAAMs (Advanced Medium-Range Air-to-Air Missile). The two men dismounted so the missiles and the aircrafts' guns could be disarmed and placed where they would be slung to some other jet for some other mission. The two pilots strolled over to a catwalk and descended back into the innards of their floating home. Eric pulled off his helmet with a relieved breath.

"Fucking cold." He shivered.

"Ah know right? No better time for the Veruseans and the Yukes to start a war." Mark replied. Eric had no comment.

They crossed the width of the ship to VF-138's main hub while on cruise. The muffled noise coming from inside snapped into clarity when Mark opened the door. Music was a constant in the Ready Room and only when the space was completely empty was it completely quiet. Usually the Duty Officer chose the songs to be played. Lieutenant Junior Grade Terry West was in control of said post for now, which explained the scratchy, reverberating guitar of Queens of the Stone Age coming from the music player near the coffee pot and fridge. The only other occupants were the head of the squadron's Maintenance Department, Lieutenant Commander Casey Webb, Vixen and Hack. Eric waved to them and grabbed a mug with his name on it from the table next to the fridge. Instead of coffee he chose milk; it was cold but the taste felt good.

"Any messages, Bruh?" He asked, looking towards the younger Lieutenant manning the desk. Bruh started rummaging through the inbox.

"Yeah uh…the Skipper wants you and Wall to see if something can be organized…I have the paper right here…there we are. He said he already spoke with Fast Eddie about it, too." He explained while Eric approached.

Eric accepted the piece of paper and read over it twice. McGavin wanted to see about organizing some more air-to-ground training, namely Close Air Support with Yuktobanian forces. Eric looked at the clock above the desk and nodded.

"Does Wall know about this?" He asked. Bruh nodded, cause the short curls of his hair to bounce a little.

"Yeah, that's just a copy. Wall says to meet him for dinner and you two can brainstorm…oh and Tex?"

Mark stopped pouring his coffee and turned around. Bruh threw him his black cowboy hat like a Frisbee. The taller pilot ducked left and let it bounce off the coffee maker before it fell to the ground.

"Fast Eddie said he was displeased to find that stuffed in a corner of the equipment room." West explained.

Mark had no comment, instead sulking off towards the door to said room. Eric smirked and followed after thanking his fellow pilot for the announcement. The two were met by Webb, who handed them each a Gripe Sheet for their planes. At the same time Rickles came down to give the two pilots his thoughts on their landings. After their gear was stored, Rickles read to them the notes taken by another LSO to tell them how their landings had looked from a safety standpoint. He stayed to review the gun camera tapes from the mock fight with the MiGs. The group gathered near the TV, standing or taking up seats in the nearby row. Even in a calm environment, Eric could still feel a little bit of adrenaline in reviewing his and Mark's tapes. They'd done a total of three fights, with one unfinished.

Attention was centered on the second, where the Oseans had lost the engagement. It wasn't a fun thing to review, but it was necessary. For Eric it was something to do. The MiG that'd killed him had done so by forcing him to use all his energy in a series of slow, close-in clashes. Each time it seemed like Eric could hold long enough to get a kill, the MiG jinked out of position. Eventually he'd been force to go fast, and the MiG used the separation to get a missile shot off and kill him before he could get too far. The blonde searched each frame for anything that might be improved upon or something he was getting rusty at. Vixen had some insight to offer; she stood up when the time was right and asked that the tape be rewound to the events that led up to his fictional death.

"Your biggest mistake was getting into this slow scissors, Saber. While the F-21 can match the MiG-29's turning well enough, he probably saw your wings go out and knew you were losing energy. I can see where you were going, you almost had him a few times, but the loss was growing too big for the gamble." He explained as they watched the sequence again.

"I figured that if I tried to extend too soon, he'd have plenty pof energy to get the jump on me." Eric replied with a nod. Sharky had the tape rewound again to the start of the sequence and nodded in understanding.

"Fair enough, but if you'll let a girl tell you how to do your job…"

She waggled a pen at the first time Eric overshot the MiG to avoid a collision.

"…You would want to hit the gas right about there. Extend while he's out of position and then turn back into him. Deploy flares while you're in the turn." She said.

"And the MiG? Don't I have a chance of zooming right out in front of him?"

"Keep up your energy and the turn; he'll naturally break to follow you but if you're going the opposite way he'll have to come back. It'll put you on the defensive but with much better chances."

"Any other parts that might've contributed to the end result?"

"Not this time. The other guy won't usually beat you with one move but he pushed this move enough times something gave."

The tape was taken out and replaced with Mark's.

"Which then brings us to what killed Tex." Vixen said as motioned for the tape to stop and be rewound.

"My major concern, Tex, is how you handled the two bandits at once. Now…"

Hack played the sequence again. Mark had been on one bandit and then broken, trying to get a snapshot at the newcomer to the fight before he could be a factor. The two junior pilots noted that their XO was silently mouthing how long Mark spent trying to shoot the second MiG before he turned left in reaction to the other MiG, the one he'd been pursuing. In the end the second MiG had gotten him by going past him from behind, coming around from Mark's left and hitting him as he was breaking to defend.

"Pause it there. Okay remember; never spend more than five seconds on one of them." Vixen explained. She had the tape played again.

"This entire time the other guy'll be using the fact that you're not on him to reposition himself. Stay mobile."

When the tape paused again she pointed out that the best option was to keep the two bandits as off-balance as one could. The best option in an actual fight would then be to bug out. In mock fights, the usual end was killing the bandits or running out of fuel, as the four jets had. There was little more to say after that; whether the two pilots learned their lesson would be seen in the future.

"Okay that's about all I have on this. Stickler you have anything else?" Vixen concluded. The LSO shook his head.

"Overall average landings; I see no reason to waste time and fuel when they're on the

Eric didn't like to think that he'd caused his lead to get shot down because of his own mistakes, but that was the reality of the matter. He finished his gripe sheet and handed it over to Webb before heading for the Ready Room's exit. Almost everyone except Bruh filed out to get on with their day.

"XO, if you run into the Skipper could you let him know I got the message on the CAS exercise? Wall and I will get on it later today unless he needs it ASAP." Eric said as he stopped on the opposite side of the corridor.

"Will do, Saber." Vixen said with a peace sign.

"Thank you kindly, XO."

"Well Ah can't say that was the best DACT session we had, but at least Vixen didn't roast us as hard this time." Mark commented softly when the others were gone.

"Eh, used to be her job. I try to remember that she actually knows better." Eric replied with a shrug. Mark shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded.

"Alright, Ah'm gonna go n see if Kat's on Skype." He declared before following after the other pilots.

"Tell her I said hi…" Eric called. After a second he smirked and decided to add a little more.

"…And put a damn sock on the door if she's gonna be naked when she answers!"

"Eat shit, Bradford!" Mark barked from the hallway. The blonde snickered and went back into the Ready Room to take a break before he paid a visit to his office.


	7. Chp 6: All Riled Up With No One to Fight

_Chp. 6: All Riled Up With No One to Fight_

 _January 25, 2024_

 _Camp Hazzard, The Shimoji Islands_

"So like, I'm just saying the drifting the guys in 2nd Tanks did out in Nordlands has potential as a viable tactic in a fight." Jose said. James barely gave him a sideways glance as he worked the joysticks on his control to bring the Dodge Viper around a turn. He hit the gas as the virtual car came out of the bend and shot forward.

"Yeah but they were doing that on ice." He reasoned.

"Yeah but nothing; it has a shock effect, you know?" Jose shot back.

James contemplated things for a second as he caught up to Jose's car and moved to pass the Ferrari 458. His eyes were too focused on the race between them as they navigated Forza X's rendition of The Circuit of the Oseas. The virtual sun reflected off the bright paintjobs of the two cars; James could almost feel the warmth of the desert from the realism of the graphics alone. He dug his thumbs harder against the Xbox controller's joysticks and took another turn. He almost went off the track, but he came out with little more than Jose in the lead again.

"I mean think about it. Half the actual armor on armor battles in Varcia during Streetcleaner was near urban areas or around roadways. Terrain beyond that is gnarly."

"But we don't normally go into that kind of terrain. Look at Belka or Yuktobania; Hell let's look at the battles the Yukes fought in Tyumen in 98 and 06 when they tried to use tanks against cities. Drifting isn't gonna do anything if the other guy can shoot you with an RPG from almost any angle he wants. That's why they made 1st Tanks use TUSK during Streetcleaner, and hell that's why we still use a few elements of it in more conventional situations."

The two cars hit their final lap, still wrestling for the lead position as they snaked around the curves of the track. James tried to shut out his friend's ramblings so he could push his car into the lead and win. He was regretting experimenting with the Viper and not sticking to his preferred Challenger Hellcat. Jose was good at drifting through some of the tighter turns…maybe he could make drifting work in urban combat.

"But wait…how would you avoid crashing into something? Urban's a tight space, my friend." James reasoned.

"Hey now you're thinking about it, though! You see the potential and then look at what might need to be done to perfect it!" Jose smiled.

As he said this, the taller Marine worked his controller's joysticks and buttons as they hit Turn 19 on the road course. James again refocused so he could make it around the last turn and then shoot ahead of Jose to the finish line. Still he could help but want to think about how a tank might drift. Maybe the final turn would help him visualize that, so he tried to drift…and almost ended up in the wall. James quickly backed out of the move and nearly collided with Jose, who was now moving with his car as he also tried to frantically avoid it. The two crossed at each other a few times before James hit the gas as hard as he could. Jose rocketed forward too and zipped past his opponent to take the win.

"Knew I should've stuck with the Challenger." James commented to himself as the results came onto the screen.

"Should've just taken that turn, man. Even I wouldn't have drifted through that.

"…Dude were you just giving me all that crap about drifting in tanks so you could pull that off?"

"Oh please if that were the case I would've tried harder." His friend snorted. James rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder towards Izzy and Lance Corporal Louis Randal, the gunner for the Platoon Sergeant's tank.

"Alright, who's next?" He asked.

"I'll give it a shot." Louis volunteered.

James left the seat and let Louis take it so he could see himself driving. James returned to his bunk and rummages underneath for a locked box. He pulled it out and worked the tumbler lock on the top until it popped open. He opened it and appraised the snack foods within. After a minute he closed it and shoved it back into hiding where it was safe from the clutches of the others in the room. He lay down and pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it for messages. It was the usual banter and flirting from Otome Hirayoko. As was usually the case, she was hoping he'd come off the base to spend the weekend with her. As James assured her he didn't plan on doing anything else there was a knock at the door.

"Officer of the Deck." A voice called.

James hoped off the bed and answered the door. Outside stood Second Lieutenant Ronny Clinger, the black-haired and often exasperated CO of Second Platoon.

"Just checking in as usual, and given the fact that it took so little time to answer the door I can assume that you're all behaving yourselves." He said.

"Yeah, just playing some Forza, El-Tee!" Louis called from his place in the room. Ronnyarched his brows and nodded.

"Oh nice, X?" He asked.

"Yeah, my sister sent it for my birthday. They brought back a few of the classics; tracks and cars." Jose explained. The OOD, apparently a fellow Forza fan, nodded and commented that he'd have to pick it up himself. Before he got too far, James cleared his throat.

"Hey sir, any word on this whole Verusa-Yuktobania thing. I mean, it's in our region of influence and it's not like 25th Cav's gonna move on it." The young man asked. Ronny shook his head.

"I'm afraid I don't, Corporal. Still the familiar hurry up and wait. Enjoy it while you can, okay?" He replied. James nodded in understanding.

"I know sir, but the not knowing is just as bad." He said nonetheless.

"I get where you're coming from, but either way I've got nothing." The lieutenant said before he started to walk again.

"…There's part of my snack stash in it for you if you tell us first." James offered after a pause. The Lieutenant rolled his eyes and stuck his hands back in his jacket pockets.

"Listen Corporal, while I'm not that much of a hardass, don't make me threaten you with an NJP because you tried to bribe me. I'm just as much in the dark as you guys." He said before moving on.

"Aww come on El-Tee, don't think of it as bribery! Think of it as me thanking you for keeping us from getting restless and supporting proper communication between officers and lower enlisteds! Comradery! All that!" James insisted.

The Lieutenant ignored him and James retreated from the cold afternoon air back into the warmth of his barrack room. He picked up his phone to see that Otome had replied. Besides the usual, she'd wanted to go shopping in Nayoka, about an hour from Camp Hazzard and the adjacent city of Kabaru. James was happy to get a little father from his home than usual. He imagined he'd be carrying a few bags but it was one of those things you did as a boyfriend. He glanced up towards the latest round of racing and caught Izzy looking his way. James gave him a "can I help you?" look.

"So uh…what IS in that snack stash, Brad?" Izzy asked innocently, avoiding his friend's glare as it zeroed in on him.

"Put your hands on my snack stash and you're loading the track's gun with stubs." James made very clear.

"Well I mean I could trade you something. Think on it, maybe use it when we're out in the field and you don't get any Tabasco in your MREs or something."

Like Ronny had the James ignored him and returned to talking about what he and his girlfriend would do this weekend…

* * *

For once she'd held off reading after she ate lunch and instead browsed her phone and watched the TV in the teacher's lounge. After the weather report there was a story on the recall of a number of new BMW sedans due to a defect in the anti-collision braking. After that was a bit on the flooding in Western Aurelia after the collapse of a damn that'd been neglected since the end of the war with Lesath; the Aurelian government was handling it best they could but the disaster was hitting fast and hard. Faster, it seemed, than humans could out-think her. It tempered Misaki's growing impatience for a second and made her feel guilty that she was acting self-centered. The teacher shook her head and sat back. No no Misaki, she told herself, don't let your mind lead you around like that. Yes' it's horrible what's happening down there but what can you do? The internal argument was cut short by a commercial break. Misaki looked at the clock on her phone and figured she'd be able to endure until the commercial break after this before she had to go back to her classroom.

She doubted that she would see Eric or get any specific information about him, but that wasn't the point. It was the lack of news that was worrying Misaki. If there was news, at least she'd know what was going on. Eric had to watch his step to avoid passing along classified information and she had no clue how else she might get credible information. Her distaste for the Family Readiness Group meetings and the idle gossip at those wasn't worth it, and the news had stopped caring after maybe a week-and-a half. The best she was getting were brief articles saying more or less the same thing over and over again, and today's search of the web was no different than yesterday or the day before that or the days before that. Verusa and Yuktobania were exchanging a lot of rhetoric at with each other, and Osea was trying to balance supporting its ally with calling for peace. The _James Wellington_ and the _Vincent Harling_ were sailing off the coast of Yuktobania in a "ready state", "ready to face any challenge". The news had said that about two-dozen ways so far. Eventually she'd had to push it a bit farther back into her mind when the spring semester started for Bay Point High School.

It was a welcome distraction though, because it meant Misaki could immerse herself in books when politics of the real world got too heavy. Next to her finished lunch was an open copy of _An Evening in Comberth_ , an old romance novel. It was a bit short, and the story of a woman experiencing a brief romance while her cruise was ported in the aforementioned harbor was nothing new, but Misaki enjoyed the plot nonetheless and the occasional warm fuzzies she got from the more lighthearted parts of the book. It was a little mature, even for highschool students. Misaki didn't mind; there were still plenty of books that she loved and could share with younger generations. She opened the book and decided she'd rather wait for an email or Skype call from him. In the meantime she'd enjoy the reconciling between the two leads.

"Reading your porn in public again, Misaki?"

The woman ignored June Christensen's cheeky comment as the woman sat down at the table across from her. The biology teacher just smirked and stared at her friend while the literature teacher simply ignored the smile and grin. Eventually she decided to give a quick answer in a way that shooed away the jab.

" _An Evening in Comberth_ is hardly porn, so excuse you."

You could make fun of Misaki Kuro, but you never talked that way about her love of books or her favorite books. Misaki lowered the book so she could get a glare across the table to her auburn-haired woman. June held up her hands and made the shape of a heart with her fingers.

"You know you're my main girl, Specs." She said, sticking out her tongue. Misaki rolled her eyes and went back to the book.

"If you want, I'll let you borrow this after I'm done reading it." Misaki replied.

"Again?"

"Yes."

"How many times does that make this?"

"Five, I believe."

Misaki involuntarily glanced towards the TV again in the hopes she'd get something at the last minute. Instead the matter at hand was sports. Confronted with the total opposite of her tastes in entertainment, she decided she'd just return to her room and enjoy a little peace and quiet there before class started up. The woman put her book back in a large canvas bag under the table and hefted it up and onto her shoulder.

"Well despite your lack of taste in literature, June, it's always nice to talk." She said, flashing a mischievous grin when her friend looked up at her. June grinned back.

"Mind if I walk that way with you?" June asked, crumpling up the paper bag she'd brought he lunch in.

"Fine by me."

The two teachers left the lounge and headed right when they entered the stark white space of the school's many hallways. The waning lunch hour meant a spike in traffic; dozens upon dozens of students and faculty flowed through the hallways towards classrooms and the gym area.

"So what book are you sharing with the youth of Osea this time?" June asked as they navigated across the hall at an intersection towards the wing where their classrooms were.

"Well after we finish covering the genre it's in, _For Whom the Bell Tolls_ this time."

"Jeez, I remember reading that when _I_ was highschool."

Misaki shrugged as they stopped near her classroom and she took out her key for the lock. She turned a sign around to indicate she was in her room in case a student had a quick question. June, in the meantime, cocked a brow at the reaction.

"You seem…unenthused." The short-haired teacher pointed out.

"It's considered a culturally and historically significant book…" Misaki simply replied as she sat down at her desk and set her bag in front of a short filing cabinet.

"But…" June trailed off, cycling her hand.

"It just isn't my cup of tea. It reflects some of my major issues with Postermodernism."

"You say that so…scholarly."

Misaki had to give her a smile that said "really?".

"Well I am a teacher." She pointed out. June snorted.

"I dunno whenever you get like that you just sound kinda weird. Like you're giving an interview for a documentary."

Misaki let out a pensive sound as she logged back onto her computer and brought up some notes. A few students filtered in, exchanging quick greetings with the two teachers as they hurried to their usual seats. June watched silently for a minute while Misaki quickly wrote out the center themes and points for discussion today, as well as the pages in the class's textbook that would expand on their lesson today.

"Well maybe I could try for that someday." Misaki mused.

"You gotta do that pose they do in all those interviews. That sorta laid back but not completely at ease kind of deal, you know?" June explained, trying to mimic the posture while she was standing.

"Don't go falling over, June." Misaki pointed out.

"Coming from you I'm surprised I'm not laughing."

Ever the mature one, Misaki turned her head at an angle only June could see and stuck her tongue out very briefly. June said nothing an instead turned towards the door as a student came in to ask Misaki a question, whatever it would be.

"I'll see you at the faculty meeting after school, Misaki." She called.

Her friend gave a distracted reply as she checked her phone for any kind of message or email. When presented with the digital clock face and her screen's background, she turned her head towards the student and once again shooed away that part of her life…

* * *

There was an air of tension in the ready room as everyone waited around for both Vixen and McGavin to show up. The gaggle of officers dressed in their khakis and flight suits waited around, watching the TV or talking. Nobody was even really watching the TV, which per ship rules was currently on the news. Seth had promised to sneak in the film they were going to play later for movie night, but after a fruitless search anyone who was watching the screen was only doing so to find a distraction from the pre-briefing anxiety. Eric had quickly settled in a place where he could easily distract himself. Lining the left wall of the ready room was a collection of photos, stills taken from gun cameras and GoPros pilots took along on missions. Despite the lack of an actual war, there'd been numerous times that the air wing had caught Verusean aircraft in places they weren't allowed to be. Each time the situation was recorded in case something happened. Out of that a sort of unofficial contest had been born to see who could get Hack the best shots.

Eric's eyes settled on a machine being viewed from nine o clock high. It looked a bit like the Useafighter Typhoon, but the spine was a bit less straight and its overall shape left little more than a vague resemblance to the Typhoon. The J-10C Firebrand was Verusa's primary fighter, serving beside the older J-11 Flanker and J-8 Finback. While the newest machine in the Verusean Peoples Air Force was the J-20A Dragon, the J-10 represented an embrace of the larger trend in aircraft. It wasn't as stealthy as the Dragon or the F-22; instead it took the route that the F/A-18E/F Super Hornet, Rafale, and F-21 Thunderhawk did and reduced its radar profile to up its survivability. The machine was a notable break from the stream of MiGs and Sukhois that he'd long-expected to fight if he got involved in any serious action. His eyes settled on the four air-to-air missiles hanging from the visible wing.

"Penny for yer thoughts?" Mark asked as he walked up.

"…The J-10's not a bad-looking plane. It has that weird, don't like it but don't hate it vibe going on." Eric replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. Mark examined the picture like he would a piece of art, then glanced at a few other images of the type.

"Yeah, Ah can see it. What little Ah've seen it do during intercepts has shown it's at least got some credibility as a threat."

"Maybe we should be glad we didn't have to test that?"

"A complex debate for another time, my blonde friend."

"Fair enough, but I can't say I like being jerked around like this though."

Mark snickered.

"Real funny, Tex." Eric replied with a small frown. His friend's grin widened in acceptance of showing he sometimes had the maturity of a middle schooler.

Eric denied him further fuel and looked at the pictures again. As his eyes settled on a Y-9B Cupboard patrol aircraft, the door came open and a steel-faced Vixen came striding in.

"Attention on deck!" She barked.

McGavin came through a minute later and Eric started to wonder if something was up. Vixen seemed a bit uptight, even for herself, and the man in charge of VF-138 also seemed to have something on his minds. The pilots and others present scrambled to their proper places as the two senior sailors in the room reached the front and turned around. Eric looked towards Wall with a questioning look, as if the man might have some folder on him that contained the loadout needed for any contingency operation. Wall, who seemed to read his subordinate's mind, shook his head. Eric face tensed that neither of them had anything like that, then slowly sat back and watched his commander as the man cleared his throat.

"Good afternoon everyone. We wanted to gather you all as soon as we could following the latest news on the situation. Despite what some of you may be thinking this briefing is about preparing for operations against Verusa to slow any operations it may be preparing to take against Yuktobania, we are here to announce that the opposite has happened. The situation will resolve peacefully."

McGavin took a second to let the announcement itself sink in. There was an air of acceptance, but mild confusion that it was all over like that. An unsaid expectation that it would've had a more dramatic ending filled the air above their heads.

"Both sides have agreed to pull back in the face of international pressure following several meetings of the UN. Long-term plans have been made to review procedures along the border to prevent further incidents such as this from spiraling out of control. For now though, the troops that both sides have deployed to the region are to be withdrawn as a show of good faith." He went on.

As he finished, the room darkened and the projector came to life. It showed a map of the area with the carrier and its perimeter. It was the same map that they'd seen for most of the affair.

"As you can see, right now the fleet controls this piece of sky and sea. The 175-Mile exclusion zone that had been established when we arrived has now been reduced to 100 Miles. We'll be reducing CAPs to the standard two rather than four, and all aircraft will remain within the battlegroup's fleet. That being said, we will maintain or looser ROE to ensure that any attempts to take advantage of the restrictions are met swiftly and effectively." He explained, pointing out a few things. That seemed to be the only slide that was relevant to the briefing.

"It'll be a phased withdrawal. We intend to pull out in three days and the mission will shift to the OAF, who'll be using its own recon assets to monitor the withdrawal. We are being pulled out to help de-escalate the situation, and we'll be in the region for a while longer. In fact, I'm proud to share the location of our first port call on the Red Ronin WESTPAC of 2024." McGavin added, his face growing into a smile.

The rest of the room mirrored his expression even before he said the name. Eric was especially excited, because it meant that with a little work he and Misaki could have the short vacation they'd been hoping to have with their two best friends after all. It'd be a bit early, but they could manage. It warranted the least amount of worry because until they were pulling into port, Eric couldn't let his guard down. McGavin only brushed over the details of a port call in the Shimoji Islands; a detailed safety briefing would be given later. He started formulating the email to Misaki in his head when then briefing wound down and focused on maintaining vigilance until they were well away from the coast. Despite a disappointment that all this tension had ended with a whimper, there was a damned good ending to the whole affair. The great war between Verusa and Yuktobania had ended without a single shot fired.


	8. Chp 7: Warrior-Bastard-Gentleman

**_A/N:_ **_I ask that if you do have questions you don't use guest reviews. The setup of Fan Fiction means that I can't reply to guest reviews without posting my own "review" of my own story. I want to be able to answer questions my readers have without bending the site's rules. If you have questions about the stuff in my stories you can PM me or log in and leave a review that I can respond to. That way I can answer your questions!_

* * *

 _Chp. 7: Warrior-Bastard-Gentleman_

 _January 28, 2024_

 _Brighthill, Osea_

President Reyes looked unconvinced that this entire affair had resolved this way. It also seemed as if the Veruseans had suddenly lost interest and was now throwing in the towel. Sure, there had been plenty of international pressure, but he'd expected them to have been a bit more resistant. Instead they'd simply backed away with the declaration that they were doing this to be the better man ("Peace is more important for the world rather than war" the Verusean ambassador to the UN had declared) and that Yuktobania and Osea had tried to start a war. Either way, Yuktobania and Verusa would withdraw their extra forces from the DMZ and afterwards they would try to find a way to prevent this from happening again. Reyes expected that process might take months to make any significant progress. CIA Director Carl Ryder sensed he had many questions and cleared his throat.

"Believe us sir, we see no reason to be satisfied by this conclusion either. While there aren't many viable military options, we'll keep an eye on things to make sure we don't get caught with our pants down." He said.

"It's why we intend to keep the RC-135s over there, sir. We'll make sure if anything of interest comes up it's looked over before anything can happen." Reese added in agreement. Nods went around the table.

"Personally I like to think it's because Verusa was unwilling to face down a clearly superior military force." Welsh spoke up with a smirk.

A smile flickered across Reyes's face. He had to appreciate the general's stab at humor. It was part of what made him a good leader. The man followed through by sobering up quickly.

"Make no mistake, sir; Verusa is still a threat. They've been hurting economically, yes, but even then they've stayed plenty strong. Tech alone doesn't win it all. They've got motivation, they're organized, and there's a damn big lot of em." He pointed out. Uragami nodded in agreement.

"Nonetheless I think we should take a more passive approach on the situation to avoid inflaming things again." He said.

It was the most trying part. They could suspect and predict Verusa's moves all they wanted but they couldn't do much. In a way that was good, though. They didn't have to do much because they had forces in the region that'd been there for years.

"Okay, so for now we're locked in autopilot. We monitor and wait and hope that this whole thing soon fades. That being said I want to be told the second something happens. Carl, I want reports from the stations in Sasomi and Boseong as often as they can get to me." He said.

"Yes sir." The director nodded.

"I also want our forces out there to keep the situation in mind, understood? Don't enflame things, but I don't want us in a bad position."

"We'll keep the _Wellington_ in the region to back the _Harling_ , sir. The former's making a port call so they won't look like too much of a threat. If Verusa wants to reach them, they'll have to violate Shimoji territory to get them." Snow assured confidently.

Reyes nodded in understanding. Verusa could be bold, but it would benefit them more to have a neutral Shimoji Islands. Violating the country's territory would deny them that. It was a reassuring situation…

* * *

When she'd first met him, Misaki Kuro had been drawn to Eric by the same fascination she had for all foreigners. He was from another world, another culture. He initially found a new friend, someone to help ease him through a tough part in his life. Eventually they'd both found that their concern for one another, their bond, ran deeper than friendship. She loved him and he loved her. All that didn't excuse the fact that he could be a massive dork, though. He was highlighting it as he danced atop one of the table, doing his best impressions of Freddie Mercury and David Bowie as he sang "Under Pressure". His squadmates encouraged him as he sang and danced, putting everything he had into the final notes from the song as it blasted from the jukebox over by the wall. Misaki stayed over by Mark and Ekaterina, where she could hopefully remain out of the spotlight. Several others had done the same thing, but she wasn't too interested in being in the spotlight. When the song was finally done, Eric there a fist up and struck the same pose Queen's lead singer had become so famous for. Those around him roared with approval while he bowed.

"Thank you, thank you all. Let's just hope Mr. Mercury and Mr. Bowie are both equally amused by the sincerest form of flattery." He joked, still holding a bottle of Tabasco sauce as if it were a microphone.

"Also on another note, any chance I could get another beer?" He added.

Seth shouted out "Yo!" and hurried off to the bar to get more booze. Eric dismounted from the table and hurried over to Misaki. She gave him a look to which he only smiled as he sank into the space on the couch next to her. Misaki rolled her eyes and took another drink of her own beer. Eric smirked and accepted a new Corona as Seth brought back several more. He also accepted a basket of Jalapeno Poppers that was being passed around.

"Want one?" He asked his girlfriend.

"Please and thank you." She replied, taking one and biting down on it. Eric grabbed one for himself and imitated her.

Eric felt good, and it just wasn't from the beer, food, and merrymaking. The NAS Shiatami O'Club was THE O'Club to see when you were stationed on the West Coast. Perched atop a hill at the northern end of the base, it was a large, two-story building made mostly of wood and bricks. The small second story, perched atop the eastern corner, was a small lounge with an outdoor patio. Its pride was the main bar, the biggest area of the place. An oval-shaped bar occupied the center of the room while wooden table after wooden table filled most of the space. The walls and really any place that could bear them were covered with memorabilia of the squadrons and wings that had passed through. There was a handful of ageing arcade cabinets as well as a stage and dance floor shove in the southeast corner. Right now the center of the party for VF-138 was opposite that, near a massive stone fireplace with round couches that sank beneath the floor. He looked at his friend on the next couch over and cleared his throat.

"So Mr. Walker, how is the life as part of the West Coast Fleet treating you so far?" He asked over the noise. Mark looked away from Ekaterina and smirked.

"Ah must say it treats me rather well." He said. Eric held out his beer and Mark clinked his Budweiser against it before he took a long pull.

"And the lady?" Eric added.

"It's very fascinating despite what little I have seen. I had never considered visiting here, but now I am glad that I can." She replied cheerfully.

Misaki pulled at the sleeve of Eric's t-shirt to redirect his attention. He looked towards her and was greeted with a kiss on the cheek. He returned it and rested his forehead against hers.

"I'm glad you could make it." He said softly.

"As am I. I'm glad that this handful of days can be about us." She agreed.

"Yeah."

"I know we didn't plan on it, but since we don't have much of a schedule, would you like to go to Shizukana? I don't wanna stir bad memories or anything but I figured we could go through, for old time's sake."

"Unless your old man is there it shouldn't be a problem."

"Not at this time of the year."

He nodded in understanding and let silence slip in. Having her next to him meant much more than it normally did. Even if he loved his job, being away from the woman he loved for long stretches wore at him. All the flying, the talking In the low, yellow-orange light she looked even more beautiful than usual. She wore a modest sweater and jeans, but the way it all fell against her figure only highlighted that her beauty didn't need to be highlighted by flashy clothes. They kissed again, a bit longer this time. After a minute Mark let out a wolf whistle, to which Eric lifted a middle finger. His friend, unoffended, waited while the two finished.

"Before Ah forget, Saber. In a few days Sharky and Gale are gonna go up to this fancy...On-scene…" He began.

"Onsen, Mark. Try pronouncing the latter half like you would "send", but without the "duh" sound the d makes at the end." Misaki spoke up.

"Onsen…" Mark replied experimentally, trying to mimic her.

"Close enough. Guess it isn't fair when it's my native language."

"Anyways y'all two wanna join? They invited us."

"This seems kinda sudden."

Mark shrugged.

"Gale's idea apparently. She's never been here so she wants to see what she can. Rosenthal doesn't have a big presence here and the Shimoji government apparently doesn't trust them after Anea. Osea doesn't have anything for them to really do here." He explained.

"I don't see why not. We never did get a chance to do anything like that." Misaki pointed out. Eric nodded and sat back.

"Place is supposed to be pretty fancy, too." Mark pointed out.

"Like I'd say no." Eric chuckled.

As he took another drink, Commander McGavin stood atop the stone hearth that jutted out a few feet from the firebox. He cleared his throat and held up a hand.

"Excuse me, excuse me my fellow Ronin!" He called.

The rest of the squadron quieted and looked up at their commander as he stood there. The man assumed a regal post, like he was toasting at a fancy dinner party, and straightened out his shirt.

"I'm very glad to be partying with you all here tonight. There are few outfits that are finer than Fitron 138. Now, I know that we've had a long month. We've been in a very volatile situation. A situation which we sometimes felt disconnected even when we were in the middle of it. However, I'm not going to dwell on that. Rather, I'm wrangling you all in because we need to carry on a sacred duty that the Red Ronin have carried on for generations." He began. A few pilots shouted or whistled in agreement, to which McGavin raised his mug to and took a drink.

"Now these traditions are not merely habits that we've made sacred, but rather an important part of reflecting who we are. You see, the concept of "Warrior-Bastard-Gentleman" is the purest form of what we are." He went on.

"Or Warrior-Bastard-Bitches!" Vixen called. She held her hands up and smirked as those around her laughed and hooted. McGavin chuckled and nodded in agreement. He paced back and forth as he started talking again.

"Warrior-Bastard-Gentleman and Warrior-Bastard-Bitches indeed. We are fighters of the ugly business of war, but we are also students of it. We are scholars of it in fact, and thus we see the incorporation of the warrior and the gentleman. We are not barbarians; we execute our orders with precision, speed, and spirit. We fight so that the ideals that we hold dear will survive. So that the land we call home will survive, and so that our allies may survive. However, that is not to say we are soft or a paper tiger. This is where the last part comes in. Often, we are seen as the unruly of society. Immature, lustful, loud, prideful, or whatever have you. But, it is that wild side that gives us the strength we need to apply what we've learned, and to do what we must do. Now, as such we must keep that image alive. To honor those who have held the line before us and those who will hold the line after us. So, let us get down to business."

McGavin craned his neck and looked towards the couches.

"Firstly, I'd like to use this chance to thank those that support us, and I believe we have two of them with us tonight." He said. Misaki's eyes widened and she exchanged looks with an equally surprised Ekaterina.

"Us?" The Yuktobanian asked.

"Yes you." McGavin nodded. He raised his mug, as did everyone else.

"Thank you both for your support. I'm sure that Saber and Tex both agree." McGavin commented.

"Wholeheartedly, Skipper." Mark assured. He kissed Ekaterina on the cheek and raised his beer before taking another drink. He tilted his head back and sighed contently.

"Now that I've thanked you both, Miss Notlovich if I may borrow your beloved Mark for a second?" McGavin called.

Mark cocked a brow and smirked.

"May Ah ask why, O leader of Fitron 138?" He asked.

"This is your first cruise with us, and so you must truly become one of the Red Ronin." McGavin explained, waving the junior officer up.

Mark chuckled and nodded in understand, aware of what was about to happen. Ekaterina tilted her head at her boyfriend, visibly confused as to why he was smiling.

"What does he mean? You joined the squadron months ago." She pointed out.

"That Ah did, but this is my first time deployed with them." Mark replied.

The pilot stood up and theatrically sept Ekaterina up into a princess carry. He gave her a long kiss, as if he were saying farewell, and then set her down to join Commander McGavin. Eric hurried up to join the rest of the squadron as well, leaving the two women to ponder what exactly was going on. Ekaterina actually looked a little worried.

"I don't think they'll do anything bad, Kat." Misaki assured. She vaguely remembered Eric recounting some sort of ceremony, but she couldn't remember the details. Pilots' penchant for cheeky immaturity gave her a good idea, though.

"I am worried because Mark generally goes along with the antics, and I always find out about the stupid ones second-hand."

"Like the drifting video in Nordlands?"

"Yes."

Ekaterina scowled, and then shook a fist in his direction.

"I swear Marky if you get yourself hurt, you're sleeping on the floor!" She warned. Eric kept it to himself that a lot of places in the islands had beds that were on the floor.

"Ah'll be fine, Ah'll be fine."

Mark stood atop the hearth next to his commander and looked at the man expectantly. McGavin waved towards the others and something was passed forward.

He grimaced as once again the cowboy had was tossed up to the front, and then to him. He examined the object and cocked a brow at McGavin.

"Is this it?" He asked.

"Part of it Tex, part of it." His commander corrected as he patted him on the shoulder.

"Now, in being a Warrior-Bastard-Gentleman part of your ethos is humility. Pride leads to mistakes in the sky, mistakes that can have dire consequences. Wouldn't you agree, Tex?" The senior man went on.

"A fair point." Mark nodded as he donned the cowboy hat.

"I'm glad you agree… !"

"Yes sir?" Eddie said with a grin and a salute.

"Play it."

"Aye, sir."

Mark glanced back at the Operations Officer as the man worked the touchscreen on the Jukebox and increased the volume. Mark didn't recognize the drum beat and what sound like violins at first, but he could recognize that he had to dance to it. He bobbed his head expectantly at first and then recognized the stuff as disco, at least. It was Dschinghis Khan's "Cingrad", but he didn't realize that; disco wasn't his genre. They were singing in Belkan, but it sounded vaguely Yuktobanian, especially when he heard the Belkan pronunciation of the country's capital. At that, he tried his best to imitate some kind of Kazotsky Kick. He could tell, when he glanced her way, that Ekaterina was not amused by his poor imitation of the dance. The pilots didn't know much better, and rather just hooted and howled, sometimes booing when he seemed to be faltering. In the meantime, Eric was sent by Vixen to go get a chilled gourd and a small glass. Ekaterina glanced the pilot's way and then looked at Misaki with a questioning expression.

"I have no clue what the point of any of this. Six years of him doing this and I still don't get it." She commented.

"I don't think we ever will, Ekaterina." Misaki said with halfhearted exasperation.

When he was finally done, Mark stood up straight, raised his arms, and lifted both middle fingers at his audience. They responded in kind and McGavin quieted them.

"Wow…well Tex, I'm glad the kind of moving we usually do isn't dancing." He said. Mark pulled off the cowboy hat and snorted. McGavin looked towards Eric as he held up the jug.

"Anyways that was the first part of this initiation. The second part is the most important. Bring forth the brew!" McGavin announced. It was met by applause.

"The second part of this is that you must allow yourself to become one with our proud history. Now, what do I mean by that? Well, as contained in the gourd that Saber is bringing up, the Red Ronin have had a long, proud history since it was first established in 1941. We carry that history with us through what we call The Brew. It reflects the places that we have fought." He explained.

Eric brought the gourd up and handed Mark the glass. He then poured a dark liquid into the cup. It looked like red wine, almost. Mark cocked a brow and looked at his squadmates.

"This brew contains Soju, from the lands of Songolia when we fought them back during the Great World War. When VF-138 returned to fight the Second Songolian Insurrection from 1965 to 1970, we took with us some of the finest Songolian rice wine. After that, we would lie in slumber for many, many years until 1995, when we were called to help push Belka back from our homeland, back from Ustio, and back from Sapin. As a trophy of our victory, we took Ustian Chateau Boloise, some of the finest wine of their vineyards." He started. Mark looked down at the small cup.

"Ah can see why Ah'm drinking so little." He chuckled.

"We must preserve The Brew as well. Anyways for our victory over Belka, we added some of the finest Belkan beer: Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier. Last, and certainly not least, our squadron's most recent foray helping to stop the war between Shamlak and Kedhan during Operation Neptune's Shield and our continued peacekeeping efforts. From that we bring no alcohol, as it is taboo in much of that region, but instead we bring a healthy dose of Gatorade." The man added.

Misaki and Ekaterina sank back into their seats, facing away from the concoction Mark was about to ingest. Ekaterina's face paled considerably as she heard a new round of cheering. Mark let out a wolf-like howl before McGavin calmed the crowd.

"May I formally christen our newest Ronin: Mark Walker!" He declared to the approval of his subordinates. Chants of "Judgement by the Sword!" echoed through the bar area as Mark and McGavin bowed to one another and the "Shogun" of VF-138 and sealed his membership with the Ronin. Misaki and Ekaterina said nothing while their boyfriends sat down like nothing had happened. Mark snickered and turned back towards the others.

"We got any wings left?" He shouted.

Vixen brought over a basket of them and Mark chased down The Brew with a couple.

"That actually wasn't half bad. The Gatorade covered some of the taste." He admitted.

"I cannot believe you willingly drank that." Ekaterina shivered. Mark snickered while his friend sat back and smiled contently.

"The Warrior-Bastard-Gentlemen act in mysterious ways." Eric replied.


	9. Chp 8: Twenty-Three and Twenty-Four

_Chp. 8: Twenty-Three and Twenty-Four_

 _February 3, 2024_

 _Verusean Expeditionary Force Headquarters, Vinhau_

Footsteps clapped against the polished stone floor as members of General Chen moved about the main chamber of the bunker underneath the northern end of the industrial city. Groups of officers in camouflaged fatigues gathered around desks and charts while enlisted men typed away endlessly on computers. The air was thick with determination and focus. In a way it personified the odd feeling of purpose, of the nerve center of planning and directing the Verusean military. The brain that told the limbs to move. Chen had been playing a game of hide-and-seek combined with what might've been one of the biggest webs of deception in decades. He'd grown more confident with each passing day. Even as the buildup went on and the Oseans continued to watch, he had seen no signs they were going to move against him. His superiors were even more confident that Osea would not strike first, given their vulnerability to world and domestic opinion.

Chen nodded as one of Lieutenant General Hui-Weng's aides handed him the latest of the build-up of ground forces in Won-Zhuu and Lannuan. The commander of his ground forces had once again shown his penchant for rapid deployment. The 43rd Mechanized Division had just arrived in the former of the two ports and was being loaded onto its assigned ships. In the meantime the first elements of the 177th and 20th Mechanized Divisions were settling into their staging areas. From there they would move forward to support the thrusts by forces that had already been stationed at the Songol-Shimoji border. Chen tensed his jaw with each unit's move. Such massive movements invited the possibility of slowdowns and issues. Things like that were problems he couldn't afford, but he had little reason they would come. His first waves were in position and ready: four divisions of naval infantry backed by two of paratroopers, supported by a dozen smaller units.

He set down the papers and looked at the map across the small room, where his intelligence chief, Colonel Huyang, was updating the disposition of Osean and Shimoji forces on the islands. Nothing new had been reported, other than the moving of a few small units on exercises. His eyes fell on the ports of Inabari in the south and Fusame up on the central part of the main island. He leaned forward and squinted at the two nearest Shimoji units, two brigades of a Shimoji mechanized division. Another brigade was stationed east of the passes that cut through the rugged terrain that surrounded Fusame. Passes he needed if he was going to break out of his northern beachhead. He looked east, towards the Osean base at Shiatami and the nearby Naval Station Shirohana. He'd been surprised when Vice Admiral Tan-Xue, his naval and naval infantry forces commander, had presented a plan not involving multiple direct attacks on the carriers before or while they were at sea.

"We will launch an attack on them on the first night. It will be the hardest we hit them directly. Afterwards we will pursue a strategy of containment and denial. We will keep them away from the Sea of Shimoji with a strong defensive screen to protect our transports. Additionally, we'll attack attempts to resupply them at sea. It will then only be a matter of time until they must withdraw." He'd explained. Lieutenant General Ren-Yuan, commander of the air component of the campaign, had been in agreement.

"The Oseans are very protective of their carriers. While we have the planes to conduct multiple strikes against them, we will certainly see high casualties in these strikes. This will, in turn, affect our ability to hit other targets with airstrikes. Therefore the admiral's plan is the best way to defeat the carriers."

The Admiral had further backed his argument with the Veruseans' submarine fleet, which could attack the carrier groups just as easily as aircraft could. The General stood up and walked around a table reserved for a map of the entire area of operations and stopped at the map he'd been studying. He looked at the one of Songola as well and placed his hands in his lap. He kept his face a passive mask while he reviewed detail after detail regarding the whole affair. Tempo, it was all about tempo. Hit hard and keep your adversaries from digging in long enough for reinforcements to arrive. The Oseans had a big army but they had to get it across an entire ocean. By the time they arrived, he intended to be closing in on Sasomi and firming up his hold on the northern part of Songola…

* * *

The southern Verusean continent was a familiar place to the RC-135W Rivet Joint. The snooper aircraft had traveled these skies since its entry into service over half a century ago. As it cruised through the darkness to the east of Verusa, electronic signals of all kinds were picked up and recorded by its antennas and "bulges" at the forward end of the plane. Its pilots carefully guided the plane just along the edge of what the Veruseans considered their airspace, just as they had with Yuktobania. Though their main area of interest, the border region between the two countries, had long passed they continued looking for anything of interest. The Rivet Joint's elongated nose covered its side-looking radar. The co-pilot, a First Lieutenant, looked down at the radar display again.

"I think we've got visitors." He muttered. The pilot glanced at the screen and nodded.

"Looks like a couple of fast movers…Navigator what's the nearest air base? We've got two contacts at 227, about 100 miles away." He said, switching to the Captain behind them. She checked their maps and GPS before looking towards the front of the cockpit.

"Closest place is Jian-Jien Military Airport. They're likely Flankers or Finbacks." She noted.

"Okay, keep an eye on em in case they start closing." The pilot instructed as he shifted in his seat.

The rest of his crew replied with a low "Rog" before returning to a state of silence. For some of them, this was little different than flying an airliner. Not the vaunted, adrenaline-filled adventure they'd hoped to find in the cockpit of the OAF's more well-known types. Any excitement at all was going on behind them. In the back cabin, intelligence specialists, linguists and other kinds of "spooks" tirelessly monitored what their aircraft picked up, looking for anything of potential interest.

At one of the consoles, a Captain listened in to any radio transmissions as they were decrypted. Most of what he was hearing was either civilian traffic or government traffic of little interest. The Veruseans were moving trains loaded with military supplies and personnel down the coast towards the major port of Lannuan, while others went to the southwest He-Wei and other major junctions for the railways. Much of what he was hearing was related to them and the air traffic. He sat back but hadn't resigned himself to the fact that the audio they picked up would have little use other than making sure the Veruseans were still moving. The man checked a map he kept on him and mumbled some calculations. Realizing they might get something around here, the man keyed his mike. He looked over towards the others near him, then down the cabin towards those responsible for locating and decrypting transmissions of interest.

"Hey Quigley, anything yet?" He asked. The First Lieutenant leaned so the other man was more in view and shook his head.

"Well nothing yet but we might have something. Standby and I'll see what I can do." He replied.

The Captain nodded slowly and sat back, staring at his console as he listened to an air traffic controller talk to a flight of Y-20 transport planes as they pushed southwest through the first parts of clouds carrying another wave of snow over the area. His name caught his attention; Quigley was waving his hand at the man. The Captain hastily keyed his mike.

"Got something, Quigley?" He asked.

"Yeah we got something…it's uh…looks to be in a bit of a newer code. Lambert and I noted the same thing earlier when she was on shift."

"Whatdya mean?"

"Couple of unfamiliar phrases mixed into normal codes and stuff. They might be doing another code change…Here, take a listen."

The Captain arched a brow. Why introduce a new set of codes now? It didn't sit well in his stomach. He double-checked to make sure they were recording and listened to the transmission, translating it in his head as he did. The phrase had been mixed into the railroad traffic as if it was referencing some kind of navigational point or destination. Her pulled a well-used notebook from under his console and thumbed through it. He noted the person he'd taken over for had noted the phrase when she'd been monitoring the border area. This meant it was probably worth sending up the chain. Someone somewhere would want to hear about this…

* * *

Two days later the discovery had become a formalized report on Director Ryder's desk. It was a short read, but nonetheless Ryder had reason to be concerned. He shared the sentiments of his president. Verusa had been a little too quick to agree to a mutual backing down. This new phrase, "twenty-three and twenty-four", reeked of suspicion in its timing. He looked up at the pictures at the opposite end of his office and sat back. He certainly wasn't going to find any answers in the paintings of old sailing ships, but he knew where he could. Ryder grabbed the receiver for his desk phone and dialed one of the many departments inside the CIA's headquarters. After a brief call, he reached out to another department and summoned one of its members. The last thing he did was ask for his secretary to bring in a pot of coffee and two extra mugs. He re-read the report and thanked the young woman for her help. A handful of minutes later two men in long-sleeved shirts and dress pants entered the room.

"Grab a seat you guys." Ryder invited, waving a hand at a pair of oak chairs.

Evan Ma-Tsueng and Rick Easter nodded and took their seats. Ryder leaned against the front of his desk, report and mug in hand.

"So I just got an interesting report today, and I'm thinking you guys might be able to help me make some sense of it." Ryder said before he took a sip of his own mug.

He leaned forward and handed the report to Evan, who stopped putting creamer in his coffee to skim over it. He looked up at the director and cocked a brow as he handed it off to the man next to him.

"Any word on how long they've been using that new phrase, boss?" He asked.

"It's only been picked up by us over the past few days, but it could be in use longer. Office in Songola is trying to see if they can figure that out." Ryder said. Evan nodded and stretched his legs out.

"Well, this might mean a few things, but it's the context more than anything that helps narrow it down to what they might be talking about." He mused aloud.

"And that context is…" Ryder said, curbing the impatience in his voice.

"Verusa's relationships with its neighbors now and in the past. The phrase "twenty-three and twenty-four" likely refers to a piece of slang, so to speak. It's a lot like how groups online get past Verusean censorship of the 1989 protests with phrases like "when spring turns to summer" and the like. It refers to the 23rd and 24th provinces of the country."

"Verusa only has 22 provinces, though."

"That's because they only claim those two; they don't actually own them. The 23rd and 24th provinces refer to the Gu-Jibang Province of Songola and the Shimoji Islands."

Ryder cocked a brow at the latter half of the sentence. Songola was fairly easy to figure out; the Veruseans hated the Songolians and vice versa. It was a conflict that went back centuries. The other part had him concerned.

"Why would they want any part of the Shimoji Islands?" He asked.

"They've wanted it since the 1920s due to their rivalry with Songola. The Shimoji Islands have several popular ports, they more or less guard the approaches to both countries and in modern times the Shimojis are an economic powerhouse." Evan answered.

Ryder nodded slowly while he took a long drink of his coffee. The man paced around his office and ended up near the window. He looked out over the gardens below, then turned around and walked back towards the others. Rick looked down at the gray carpet and nodded, taking in the details that his coworker and boss had just set out.

"So then this code likely has something to do with Songola and the Shimoji Islands…the question is what?" He pointed out.

"It could be a ploy of sorts. Make us think they're trying to put pressure elsewhere now. Keep us off-balance or something." Rick suggested. Evan nodded in agreement.

"I must also point out, though it is a remote possibility, that this phrase is in reference to the upcoming anniversary of Verusa's formal start as a communist country. We use patriotic slogans in many of our own operations."

"Seems a bit big for that." Rick noted.

"We'll keep it on the table until proven otherwise, but for now let's assume it's not. Better to overestimate. Anyways this phrase would have to serve a purpose, right? Something beyond just making us look stupid by shifting forces around." Ryder pointed out.

"Correct, and more importantly mobilization or movement like this isn't cheap by any means." Rick said. The other two remained silent while he went on.

"If they're doing this, then they have a goal in mind. If they're simply trying to keep us off balance, then what they hope to gain in the end must be substantial, whether by their standards or ours or ours. Point is unless the leadership in Shen-Jiau has lost its head, then they're up to something."

Evan nodded with a growing seriousness in his eyes. Ryder let out a breath and stroked back his crewcut a few times.

"Alrighty then, so it's fair to say we've got a rather dicey situation on our hands." He mused, more to himself. Rick pulled off his glasses and cleaned them with a sleeve.

"Seems that way, sir. I assume the president will want options in light of this." He observed.

"The way it sounds like it's going, I think this is gonna fall on Welsh and his guys." Ryder corrected. He glanced back at his phone again.

"I'm gonna make a phone call. You two stay here in case the guys over at The Citadel want you to help." Ryder said. He turned and grimaced; President Reyes wasn't going to be very happy about this little development…

* * *

Eric couldn't help but tap his toe a little as he watched the performance across from him on the large TV. Shimoji Pop, or S-Pop, wasn't his thing but he had little else to do while Misaki and he waited for her plane to board. His Shimo had gotten a bit rusty over the years, but he could make out enough to determine the name of the band and the song. They weren't real people; one of those animated bands instead. The center of the performance was three young men dressed as if they were from the Feudal era, back when samurais and shoguns and all that were the norm. They even had fake swords they used in their dance routine. The music was a fast-paced combination of string and flute mixed with modern instruments. The buzz of the airport did only a little to drown out its din. He looked over his shoulder towards the windows. Mark and Ekaterina waited closer to the windows overlooking the runways and tarmacs of Sasomi International Airport.

"You know what I'm gonna say soon, Eric." His girlfriend whispered.

"I know Saki, and you know what I'm gonna say in return." Eric replied with a small, confident smile.

"I'm glad you could come out this time." He added, quickly diverting from the over-talked topic to the start of farewells.

"Me too, but this visit was way too short." Misaki agreed, happy to leave it behind.

"Yeah maybe we can come here for our honeymoon."

"Planning ahead, are we?"

"At this point we practically are married. Hell we've been acting like that since you told your old man to piss off."

"I'd argue it was even before that, considering how much I had to keep an eye on you in highschool."

Eric just grinned; he wouldn't lie that he hadn't been a handful back then. He kissed her on the forehead as the flight attended announced in Shimoji, then Osean Lenish that the flight was to begin boarding soon, starting with members of AeroPacific's exclusive members, followed by busy and coach class. The two stood up and turned to face their friends as they came to join the other couple. Ekaterina couldn't help herself from being clingy every time she had to part ways with Mark and hope he'd come back to her. They locked into deep embrace again, ignoring the world around them while they said goodbye after it'd long stopped needing to be said. Mark could feel Ekaterina clutch a fistful of his jacket as hard as she could. She pulled her lips a few inches away from his and flashed a small smile.

"We shall start what began here when we get home." She told him in Yuktobanian. He gave her a toothy grin.

"Ah look forward to it." He replied. She switched back to his native tongue.

"And remember: now it's now more imperative than ever that you return." She whispered, looking down at the small ring on her hand.

"He'll be back safe and sound." Eric assured. The two smiled at him and Ekaterina reluctantly let Mark go.

"Until next time, Love." Misaki spoke up with a kiss on the cheek.

Eric responded by pulling her to him, dipping her and kissing her. Instead of her usual response of embarrassment and mild irritation, she instead chuckled and smirked in satisfaction.

"Until next time, my lady." Eric added with a bow and a kiss of her hand.

Aware they might be attracting some unwanted attention, Misaki hugged him once more before the two joined the growing line at the gate. Eric looked towards the outside world and walked to the windows. He checked his watch and figured they had time to watch them go before they had to head back to Shiatami and eventually back out to sea. He considered if he might give into the temptation to grab something to eat from one of the restaurants in the airport. For the longest time, as expected, the Airbus simply sat at the gate. The two still watched the airliner until it had long left the ground behind, feeling like two puppies watching their owners leaving. Mark grimaced at the idea.

"We're fuckin pathetic sometimes." He remarked with an amused snort.


	10. Chp 9: Flying Blind

_**A/N:** For those interested, I am working on another story outside of Fanfiction due to the rules of the sight. An Area 88 fic to be specific, which I can't post here since it's an AU of sorts and the site is pretty strict about such things. If you're interested, get in contact with me and I'll point you in the right direction._

* * *

 _Chp. 9: Flying Blind_

 _February 12, 2024_

 _OFS James Wellington (CVN-34)_

Mark could remember the whole affair, every detail. It made him shiver and growl in a mix of lust and frustration. Ekaterina sauntering into their room at the inn, tipsy and mischievous, set on getting one thing and one thing only. Mark had been treated to one of her favorite ways of seducing him before the main event. Persian-style bellydance was a performance that emphasized use of the hips and changing between slow and frantic speeds. Kat had married the attributes of such a dance with her figure, and Mark was even more doomed than he had already been. His only complaint was that she hadn't brought the ensemble she liked to couple with her performances. He just had to survive the lands from which bellydance came from, and he could see her go all out. They were due to relieve _OFS Valkyrie_ and her battlegroup in around a week at most. So why the hell weren't they heading south at a regular pace?

Mark sat at his desk, taking a break from his normal duties to let his mind relax by daydreaming. Unfortunately he couldn't get past the fact that they were still in the vicinity of the Shimoji Islands. The old seadogs at Pacific Command seemed to have lost their plans on what to do with the Wellington and her group and were instead having her meander about until they could decide where to send her. For Mark it was taking a personal note. He'd spent many long hours, both with and without help, putting together how VF-138 would do its mission to help keep the peace in the Persian Sea. Not only was it his job, it was also necessary for him to go forward in his career. If he wanted to be the Operations Officer of this or any other squadron, then he had to prove he could do the job. He didn't doubt that Fast Eddie wouldn't approve of his effort, but having all that hard work amount to nothing was aggravating. A knock at his door pulled him away and he looked up as Sharky poked his head in.

"Mind if I impose?" his friend asked.

"Yeah, come on in." Mark said, motioning towards a seat near one of the bookshelves. He glanced towards Airman Duncan, who was bust shuffling through the latest weather reports and photographs.

"Hey Dunk, y'all gotten lunch yet?" He asked. The kid (he looked maybe a day past 18), looked up and shook his head.

"No sir." He recalled.

"Go ahead and rest yer brain a bit, then."

The young man nodded and greeted Sharky as he shuffled by and out into the hallway. Sharky sat down and rubbed the side of his head with two fingers.

"Man, I don't know how you guys function on this thing with how little you get off time." Sharky half-joked.

"As Admiral John Kelly once said: get over it." Mark chuckled dryly. Sharky just snorted and leaned back in his chair.

"So what brings y'all to the land of Ops?" He went on.

"Looking for information and things to occupy myself, I guess."

"Don't have enough to do with the whole eval thing?"

"Most of it is watching flight ops and attending briefings with the air wing or battlegroup staff. My hope is we'll get the real good stuff when we're in the Persian Sea."

"If we ever get there."

"That's where the whole info part comes in."

"Gotta bug Hack for that one."

"Yeah but he's not my friend."

"That's an interesting way of putting it…"

Sharky shifted in his seat and smirked at the idea.

"I heard that the _Harling_ and her group are due to stay out with us." He let slip. The other flyer cocked a brow at him and realized what kind of info he sought.

"Was this an official announcement, or just a couple of overexcited seaman looking for an explanation to things?"

Sharky shrugged like he didn't care about that.

"Guy claimed he worked up on the bridge."

"The reliability of the rumor mill on a ship is a gamble, my friend. Ah've heard everything from Kevin Hart's coming aboard to someone claiming they saw a sea monster and that means we're up in the Arctic because we're hunting it." Mark pointed out.

"Fair point." Sharky nodded.

There was another knock at the door and the two looked over to see Eric poking his head in. He held up a folder, almost in greeting.

"Heya guys, brought you are current weapons stocks. Separated the ones allotted for training exercises." He explained as he walked in.

"Also the hell was that I heard about Kevin Hart and a sea monster?" Eric added with a snort. Mark waved the folder towards Sharky.

"Our guest is learning the ways and workings of information that floats around…anyways thanks man." Mark nodded as he accepted the folder.

"Turning it in early so I have more time to sleep." Eric added as he mindlessly rubbed a finger against his upper lip.

"Hey guys, think I should grow a mustache for this cruise?" He asked with a twinkle in his eyes. The other two laughed at the idea, mostly how suddenly it'd been proposed.

"I don't even know what that would look like." Sharky guffawed.

"Probably make him look like Goose." Mark chuckled.

"I could wax it." Eric casually suggested.

"Well shoot partner, this boat ain't big enough for two cowboys!" Sharky pointed out in a faked southern accent.

"Tell that to all the rest of my people aboard this symbol of Osea's foreign policy." Mark replied flattly.

"Well we'll see. The bulletproof mustache would be most welcome. No Saki around to tell me to shave it, either." Eric concluded. He checked his watch and bowed out with the reasoning that he wanted to get to sleep sooner rather than later.

"See ya tonight brother." Mark replied as he looked back down at the folder.

"What our towering friend said." Sharky nodded. Eric held up a peace sign as he opened the door again. Mark looked up once more.

"Hey Saber…" He started. Eric turned and cocked a brow at his friend. Mark was about to discard his question, but soon decided it was too late too.

"Forgive my question for sounding stupid, but y'all wouldn't happen to know why we're just sorta dicking around instead of going to do our original assignment?"

Eric shrugged.

"My best guess is that we wanna make sure that Verusa gets the message. They usually need a good, firm reminder that they can't just get away with shit, especially when it brings about suggestions of war between two major powers." He explained.

"Well Ah guess that's just about as good an explanation as any." Mark replied. Sharky was still unsatisfied.

"And the whole thing about the _Harling_ joining us?" He pointed out. The blonde shrugged.

"First I've heard of it, but could be related to the whole show of force against Verusa."

"Guess we'll just have to be patient then." Sharky noted as he stood up.

"Well I've got another meeting with the wing staff in half and hour, and CAG already doesn't like me. No need to give him ammo." He added.

"CAG's an old man; he's got a right to be grumpy after all the shit he's had to slog through over his career." The blonde pointed out as he turned to leave once again.

Eric and Sharky left the room, all of them now wondering what exactly was going on with the battlegroup's mission and current behaviors. The thought made the blonde a bit grumpy. He was used to the uncertainty of cruise, hell even the greenest sailors were. It felt like they were just going in circles around some random piece of ocean, though…

* * *

The Shimoji Maritime Self Defense Force ship _Kirishima_ (DDG-184) hurried through the waves, rolling slightly as it crossed the depressions between peaks. She almost looked deserted, adrift without a single soul aboard her. Her entire crew was inside, away from the risk of being thrown overboard at high speeds. Inside, the Leading Seaman at his sonar console felt like he was going to make a mistake just from having the ship's ASW officer watching over his shoulder. Both their eyes followed the singular contact running to the southwest. It was faint right now, thanks to a combination of the terrain on the ocean floor in that part of the area. The last rises before the seafloor fell away into the open ocean were acting as a shield and the contact kept itself on the side opposite the Shimoji ship.

It was a consistent kind of faint though, which lead him to believe that it was something. The size also looked to be roughly that of a submarine. It better have been something; they'd turned the entire ship just to check on this contact. If it was, then it was just skirting along the boundary of Shimo territorial waters. The sound of boots gently marching across the steel deck didn't break his gaze from the form on the sonar screen, but he recognized the voice that followed.

"You've spotted something, Lieutenant?" The Captain of the destroyer asked.

"We have a potential contact, Captain." The man replied with a quick nod.

"One of ours?"

"If they are, then they don't seem too keen on letting us know it. According to our own knowledge, the nearest friendly boat is the _Tatsunami_."

"And we're sure that's not her?"  
"Last report said she was much further north, up by Fukutsu Island."  
"Knowing the rep of the _Tastunami_ , Don't expect that to be accurate. Her skipper is Shinonome."

There was a noticeable pause as the ASW officer tried to decipher what his officer meant, but the senior man was quick to explain the second he saw his subordinate's confusion. The Captain's voice became sour, impatient almost.

"Captain Shinonome is a damned cowboy is what he is. Likes to take any chance he can get to show up surface ships or really anyone who isn't himself."

"I recommend we see if that's true, sir."

"My thoughts exactly, Lieutenant. Keep on him; I'm going to see what else we can send after the contact."

The Captain hurried to a nearby phone and placed a call to the hangar deck on the back end of the ship. He ordered the ship's SH-60K Seahawk be readied to help chase down the contact. He also contacted the engine room to check in on how the burst in speed was affecting their propulsion. Confidentially assured that they would catch the contact, the Captain retreated to his chair in CIC and let things go into motion.

The ship slowed just long enough for the Seahawk to be safely rolled from its dwelling and onto the rear flight deck. The ship eased to the right and began making an elongated hook against the submarine. With luck they could end the game early and force the submarine to either surface or, if it was Verusean, put some distance between itself and Shimoji waters. Otherwise it was going to be trapped in waters that were good for hiding and ambushing, but not necessarily for maneuvering. The move had gotten the contact's attention, according to the sonarmen. _Kirishima_ adjusted yet again to keep it on her nose until it had forced their unidentified guest into more open waters.

"We've got an ID on the contact, sir: it appears to be a Verusean Shang-class." The ASW officer relayed.

The Type 093, Shang to the Oseans and their allies, was an older nuclear attack submarine. The Captain was unsurprised; it was only "older" because the newer Type 095 (Zhou-class) was now out. The Type 093 was more common still, and its identification brought a wave of comfort and familiarity to the man. On his order the SH-60 was launched to see to it that the submarine was actually leaving. While the _Kirishima_ steadied and passed through a cluster of miniscule islands, the single helicopter raced towards the Verusean ship low and fast. Despite the excitement running through the Shimoji sailors, they all knew this was going to end the way it had a dozen times before. Soon enough, the submarine was well away from their waters, heading home.

From a shore further north, Captain Fheng of the Verusean Special Operations Regiment, casually known as the "Black Daggers", was busy trading his wetsuit and scuba gear for civilian clothes. He slowly metamorphosed from a commando into a hiker trekking through the coastal wilderness. He refrained from balking in bemusement at the color of his satchel and the choice of clothes. He'd become so accustomed to mixes of green and disruptive patterns that natural instincts squirmed at the idea of being so visible. The logical side of his mind was far more insistent in telling him that he was camouflaging himself, just not in the way he found traditional. In a sense he was really hiking; his hike would just end differently than most. He looked at the other men crouched in the late-night shadows of the steep hill leading up from the beach. He had the standard of selection of 12 men, all hand-picked. He slid his QCW-05 into his backpack and slung it onto both shoulders, then turned to his pointman.

"Sergeant Liu, I don't believe I need to waste our time with orders. You know what to do." He noted softly in the local tongue.

The fellow commando nodded quickly and set off, running to the top of the seaside hill before assuming a more leisurely pace. Fheng watched over the other men as they left in small groups, four at most, in random intervals. The Captain waited until he and two others, his youngest member and one of his veterans, were the only ones left. He pulled out a satellite phone and dialed as they set off. He put the device to his ear and waited as the electric rings hummed a rapid beat in his ear. Finally the other side picked up.

"Hello?" An elderly voice asked pleasantly.

"Hello grandfather! I was just calling to tell you that I'm okay. The stars out here are beautiful tonight! I might even be able to see Orion's Belt!" Fheng answered in a cheery voice.

"Oh excellent! Please bring me pictures; I am far too old to spend my time out there."

The two shared a quick laugh before Fheng promised he would call when he reached the next inn. After that he bid the man farewell and hung up to allow the first message to be relayed back across the sea. He glanced at his watch, then turned it to the compass function. It was roughly 20 kilometers to Camp Ishida, and as they often did the Black Daggers were on a strict timetable and a complex route. Fheng put purpose into his step as he entered a nearby grove of trees. He intended to be looking at the fence of the Shimoji military complex by the time the first friendly jets were over the ocean and bound for their targets…

* * *

Eric shifted in his ejection seat and woke himself up when his body began to fall forward. He looked around, then let out a breath and looked down at the panels and displays of his F-21. He stretched best he could inside the cockpit and looked around the darkened expanse of the deck. Deck crew casually ambled about or found any place to get off their feet between flight operations. His aircraft was one of the few on deck, while most were packed below in the hangar deck. Eric checked his watch and found it was almost 2300 hours. Their relief was due to come up in an hour around the time the next flight ops cycle began. He glanced at the date below the time; it was one of the few sources that reminded him how much time was passing. Valentine's Day had one hour before it ended, and like many other sailors aboard the boat he got to spend it with thoughts rather than their actual loved one. On that thought, Eric glanced towards Misaki's picture tapped to an empty space in the cockpit and smiled for a second. He'd kill for some chocolates like the ones she'd made him way back when they were an awkward couple working through how their own cultures approached the subject. The pilot looked towards the other jet on the forward cats with him and keyed his mike.

"I miss anything, Tex?" He asked.

From his plane, Mark groped around for the radio key without taking his eyes away of a worn copy of Larry Bond's _Hailstorm_.

"Nothing much, man." He replied distractedly. Eric craned his neck as if that might let him see the book.

"That good, huh?" He commented as he fished around for his own entertainment in terms of the music on his smartphone.

"Ah just got to the part where the Yuktobanians invade their satellites and Tyumen to stop em from holding elections. In a few chapters there's gonna be this massive air battle between the Oseans and Yukes. It's got some sweet Tomcat action."

"So like the Battle of Oured Bay in 95?"

"Was written five years before that fact. Looks like we're gonna get something closer to the battle of Southgate in 42."

Eric turned up the volume as high as it would go while he tried to imagine that.

"So give me good indicators that we're about to see something good…or well rather you're gonna see something good." Eric went on.

"Dude, the Oseans have four carriers and a battleship and this is Larry Bond, the man who wrote _Red Phoenix_ and _Vortex_. Y'all know he's gonna deliver."

"Oh I know he will. The man can take a good, even, stand-up fight and make it work."

"If yah want, y'all can borrow it after Ah'm done."

"Maybe; I've read it maybe four times already."

"So have Ah."

As he finished his sentence, Eric caught movement at the very edge of peripheral vision. Eric looked back and saw the plane guard's rotorblades were spinning up. Eric cocked a brow and turned the music coming from his phone before he looked the other way. As he lifted his mask to give Mark a warning that something might be up, an urgent wailing sounded across the carrier's flight deck.

"Ready the Alert Five! Ready the Alert Five!" the carrier's Air Boss ordered from her perch above the action.

Eric scrambled to get himself back in order as the catapult crew and several ordnance handlers hurried to his aircraft. A Plane Captain hurried up to the side of the jet and up the boarding steps. He communicated to Eric via hand signals that the Thunderhawk was still in good shape. The pilot acknowledged and the man was gone before he could lower his HMD visor down. Eric looked around and spotted the Catapult Officer hurrying into place. Eric was given the signal to bring his jet to life. His hands seemed to teleport from one part of the cockpit to the other as he flicked switches, toggled displays and activated systems. He secured his oxygen mask over his face and cleared his throat.

"Shogun 2-1, radio check." He declared.

"Shogun 2-2 reads 2-1 loud and clear. Shogun 2-2, radio check." Mark responded.

"Shogun 2-1 reads 2-2 loud and clear."

Eric looked at the Cat Officer and waited for further instructions while his F-21 purred, almost ready to be launched. The man looked back as the Jet Blast Deflectors (JBD) came up and kept the heat from the engines from washing over unsuspecting deck crew. He looked below Eric while the cat crew scattered, signaling the weapons were ready and that the aircraft's weight had been passed on to the catapult's Shooter. Once he was clear, Eric got the signal to move his aircraft's control surfaces. Eric made it quick as he saw more aircraft coming up; the Air Boss was ordering the Alert Ten and Fifteen readied as well. Eric could feel his heartbeat notching up and up and up. The "Pucker Factor" on this one certainly seemed to be on the higher end. He glanced to his left and saw the Plane Guard slow into position.

The final seconds before launch seemed to rush by as he was given the signal to go to full power. Eric's eyes raced across his cockpit while the Cat Officer made sure his path was clear. He looked over towards the Shooter in his armored bubble and saw the man had his hands up against the galss. When their eyes met again, Eric replied to the Cat Officer's latest hand motion with a salute. He pressed his body against the seat and waited while the Cat Officer did pone final set of motions. He returned Eric's salute, twisted his upper body back and forth twice with his fists level with his face, then dropped to a knee, touched the deck and pointed at the bow. Eric felt himself vibrate as the world blurred for a second, then the black of the nighttime sky swallowed him. A sudden pressure on his body disappeared almost instantaneously and he felt his fighter drifting up.

"Good shot, good shot. Shogun 2-1 is airborne." He radioed as he took control of the aircraft.

Eric made a steady ascent and brought the F-21 into its flying configuration. He looked to the right, then banked that way and rose further above the carrier as he circled around to get Mark. Once he was over the ship his gaze lowered, waiting for a datalink from the Hawkeye.


	11. Chp 10: Sudden Impact

_Chp. 10: Sudden Impact_

 _February 14, 2024_

 _Above OFS James Wellington (CVN-34)_

Stars filled the sky above, and out in the distance Eric could see what one might assume were more along the horizon. He knew better, and what they were had the tension in his body growing. They were the flicker of rocket motors from ship-launched RIM-174 Standards. He set his radar to its maximum range and selected his AMRAAMs. Mark swung parallel to him without a single word. The E-2 orbiting above the carrier confirmed what they were both thinking.

"All aircraft, all aircraft this is AWACS Cobalt, bandits bandits. Heading 315, 312 Miles out, Angels 23. Likely Verusean." The controller reported, clearly surprised as well. A familiar, more commanding voice took to the airwaves.

"All aircraft this is Thunderbolt 100, engage at will. I repeat, engage at will!" CAG boomed.

"Roger that CAG." Eric replied as he checked his cockpit's displays and screens.

Eric drew in a breath and, with orders to wash away his uncertainty, checked for anyone else near them. He caught a glimpse of another two jets leaping off the carrier, but they'd need to join up and catch up to him. The radar screen was still clear, but as they flew further and further out his RWR was picking up the signals from unfriendly radars as they searched for him. The radio was coming alive as more and more jets got airborne. It was almost chaotic as people tried to get others up to date as soon as possible without causing information overload. The entire air wing, or anyone whose plane could mix it up with enemy fighters, was getting launched.

"Cobalt, this is Shogun 2, requesting vector to nearest bandits." Eric radioed.

"Nearest bandits are at Heading 307, 298 Miles, Angels 23. Looks like Firebrands"

J-10 fighter jets, one of Verusa's newer weapons. Eric guessed they were probably C models.

"Roger that Cobalt, anyone else in that area?" He asked.

"Got Shogun 1-1 and 1-2 moving to intercept as well."

"Cobalt, requesting a SITREP; what are we facing?" CAG stressed again.

"Standby Thunderbolt Lead…" the E-2 insisted. There was an almost frustrating pause before the Hawkeye gave them a better idea about the threats.

"Okay Thunderbolt Lead, we're tracking about 24 larger targets with 36 smaller aircraft, likely escorts. Additional aircraft appear to be heading for Kotoko AFB. The _Valliant_ , _Bennet_ and _Pioneer_ all report Vampires aloft and are engaging. Take the escorts and we'll sick Durango and Coliseum on em."

The balloon was up, and reaching for the moon this time. Eric adjusted the direction of his Thunderhawk to the aforementioned vector and sped up as he ascended to the Veruseans' altitude. He switched his APG-79 to track-while-scan. The pilot looked down at his fuel load and keyed his radio.

"Tex, don't drop your tanks until you've taken your first shots." He instructed.

"Roger that Saber." Mark replied. _He probably already knows that you dumbass_ Eric's mind snorted to him.

"Shogun 2-1 this is Shogun 2-3, we're coming up on you from your eight low…we're gonna stay low and try and get the bandits that way. We'll take the second group." Vixen spoke up.

"Roger that 2-3…I see you guys at my eight low." Eric replied, pausing to look to his lower left.

He looked back as the range began to close. Four dots, then eight appeared on his radar. Shogun 1, consisting of Lieutenant Harold LeBlanc and Ensign Keith Ferris, were much closer to the bandits. It was two of them against maybe eight or more bandits. The two Osean jets sent off AMRAAM after AMRAAM until their loads were gone before breaking. The Veruseans fired back two fold; Eric could see the flashes of light from his position. Then, a larger one erupted without any buildup or warning.

"Shogun 1-2 is down…Shogun 1-2 is down." Blank reported in shock, words marred by the force of his maneuvers. Eric's eyes widened.

"Shogun 1-1 this is Shogun 2-3, heads up we're coming in from your nine. Break and head for us. Shogun 2-1, split and engage the guys on the right!" Vixen ordered, trying to ignore what'd just happened.

Eric head the mike clicks, his included, but his mind had shifted into tracking the incoming J-10s. He forced his mind to shift; _Do your job!_ His conscious screamed at him. _Unless you wanna end up like Dart!_ The inevitable desire to mourn the loss of the pilot surged up to try and take over again, only to be beaten down viciously by survival instincts. The warrior part of Eric was now in control. They were a little outside the fleet perimeter now, but the carrier's escorts were paying them little mind. Eric assumed the Ticos and Burkes were more concerned with whatever they were escorting towards the _Wellington_. He selected the lead two jets while Mark took the others and left the rest of the science to the computers in his plane. The Verusean bandits began to maneuver, breaking apart and heading separate ways in pairs.

"Take the trailers, 2-2!" Eric replied.

Eric broke right and Mark went left. He led the two bandits before he came back to put his nose on them as they split up. His radar kept both planes in the F-21's sights as they closed. Their maneuvering slowed them while he zoomed in to 100 Miles out. Eric pushed passed the AIM-120's outer range and chose the closer of the two Firebrands to close in on. Running on adrenaline and instinct, he depressed the weapons' release button atop his control stick.

"Shogun 208…Fox 3, Fox 3!" He called.

The pilot snapped towards the aircraft he'd close on and fired twice again. His right hand came off the throttles and he let his centerline tank fall away as he pushed on the lead J-10. He selected his Sidewinders while the first two AMRAAMs reached their top speed. The J-10 broke hard into Eric and released a stream of chaff behind it as it crossed his nose. Eric made a hard left and slowed to keep his nose on the other fighter. His plane buffeted against the air for a second before he hit the throttles again and kept closing. The shape of the enemy fighter began to morph from a small dot to a machine. The AMRAAMs had turned to keep on the Verusean, but they were outside the jet's turn. Eric had quietly given up on them, even if they were still tracking. The other J-10 was nowhere else to be found, which had the Osean on edge. He forced his attention to remain on the one he could see and continued to close the gap between the two of them. The J-10 nosed up and sprinted for the broken clouds high above with Eric on his tail. The Verusean then snapped left and pulled from its dive. Eric grunted as he did the same, easing back the throttle and moved to reorient his nose of the Firebrand. He reversed directions again when the J-10 did and used his throttles to come roaring out of the move.

Eric glanced around again for the other J-10 but still couldn't see it. He was beginning to wonder if the guy had cut and run. Somewhere in his mind, the Osean had the errant thought of "dude, are you gonna take a shot at me or not?". The thought never really got his attention as his mind was in the midst of rush hour. The J-10, surrounded by a TD Box on his HUD, was steadily being approached by the circle on the display. The J-10 slowed and Eric yanked his plane up to counter the move. He brought it through a very abrupt and hard high yo-yo and pushed into a loop, gaining what speed he could. The Verusean was still running, going into afterburner as it tried to ease out of what turned out to be a bad move. Eric was above the jet as it was running. When he got his nose point in the right direction, the much-awaited tone cried into his ears.

"Shogun 208, Fox 2." Eric reported.

Eric launched the single AIM-9 and descended to pursue the J-10 further. He started locking up the enemy jet for another missile shot, but by the time he was pursuing a lock-on, he caught a glimpse of the warhead detonation. The missile had gone straight and true, adjusting every second to keep its destination in sight. When it was close, it detonated and shotgunned hot shrapnel into the Verusean fighter. From the puff of fire and smoke sailed the J-10, minus its tail and chunks of its rear. Eric broke off pursuit as the enemy fighter began its descent towards the ocean. He searched again for the other fighter, but still saw nothing. His ears tuned back into the radio.

"Shogun 2-2, say position." He called.

"Shogun 2-2 engaged neutral…got another flight of bandits coming in." Mark replied.

"Roger that, on my way."

Eric turned towards where he'd last seen friendly pilots and hurried towards the first contact he saw. He was able to make out what he could guess was Mark's fight as he was tangling with a single J-10.

"Shogun 208 is entering the fight from the southeast, heads up!" He reported.

"Roger that 208; turn north and help us engage some of these bandits trying to get deeper into the perimeter." Vixen ordered.

"Understood 202." Eric replied.

He spotted two more contacts coming from the north and turned to engage them with Vixen and Seth at his right. He broke left as the newest flight of bandits, J-11D Flankers, entered the fight. Eric's RWR alerted him just before they fired off PL-12s at the Oseans. Eric broke into them and trailed chaff behind his jet.

"Saber, take the nearest bandit! Stickler, with me and get the one and two guy…Shogun 202, Fox 3 Fox 3." Vixen ordered.

"Roger that." Eric grunted.

He deployed more chaff as the two missiles coming at him adjusted course. He pushed more to the right, and then reversed hard to overwhelm the incoming missiles. The J-11 banked right once it was close, to which Eric reversed again and hit the throttles. He looked back and found the Flanker going high, sliding into his four high. The two jets crossed paths and then turned towards each other again. Eric exited the scissors in the second crossing and hit the gas while the Flanker was pointed the wrong way. By the time the Flanker was turning to chase him, Eric was far away. He came around to the right and put the bandit on his nose. The RWR alerted him, and he noted that there was another J-10 in the area looking for a fight. Eric broke right and dove, deploying more chaff and flares.

"Shogun 2-3, got another bandit coming in on my two. Turning to engage." Eric reported.

"I've got the Flanker, Shogun 2-1. Thunderbolt 1-1 is in hot." CAG spoke up. Eric just clicked his mike to acknowledge Captain O'Neil's words.

The J-10 latched its radar onto Eric and prompted the Osean to maneuver and break the lock. The two jets turned into each other and made a complete circle before Eric started trading energy for a better angle on the J-10. Reluctantly he decided to take an off-boresight shot at the bandit. Eric tilted his head up and let his HMD's wizardry do the rest. The J-10 broke left and accelerated with Eric's plane close behind. The Verusean tilted up and used what energy he had to force his opponent to the outside. Eric found the J-10 above him, and without the angle or needed energy to turn into him broke away and let the J-10 take the offensive. He looked back as the Firebrand snapped right and after him. Eric went left, speed increasing with every second, and found the J-10 was going for a lag pursuit. Eric's systems went into panic as the enemy jet loosed a single PL-9. Eric deployed flares and reversed hard right, going up and pulling as tight a turn as he could.

"Shogun 2-1, Ah'm coming in from below to try and box the guy in." Tex spoke up.

"Roger that…Shogun 2-2…thanks for the assist." Eric replied against the Gs piling on him.

The missile screamed by just outside the effective range of its warhead. Eric could feel the explosion reverberate through his plane as he turned to dive on the J-10 who'd fired at him. He spotted the jet ascending, nose still on the F-21. Eric braced again and yanked the nose of his fighter to meet the J-10's. He screamed at his missile to get a lock, then hit the button as tracers zipped from the Verusean jet's belly.

"Shogun 208, Fox 2!" Eric barked, more as an afterthought.

He dove to the left, and then turned back the other way to relocate his enemy. The Firebrand was banking away from him, looking to extend. Eric pulled back on the stick and swung the Thunderhawk into a better pursuit position. To his left, Mark's own plane slid into a loose trail position. The two rose up and after the enemy fighter as it rocketed onwards. The Verusean was coming back around towards the fleet perimeter, which told them both he still wanted to fight. Eric looked around to see if he was setting a trap, but couldn't see any other aircraft near them that were unengaged. He closed the distance on the J-10 as it dove back down, going low for the water. The J-10 went right, and so did they. It bolted back to the left, and the two F-21s, still far enough away, negated the move.

"Got another bandit coming in from our nine o' clock high. Ah'm on him." Mark radioed.

Eric stayed on the J-10 while Mark broke from the formation to face a J-11 that had gained interest in the two Oseans. The J-10 dove again to Eric's mild confusion, but he followed nonetheless. As they came down, Eric pulled lead on the bandit until he had a tone.

"Shogun 208, Fox 2." He reported.

Eric eased back the throttles to cool his descent and dropped out of the chase, now taking an overwatch position of sorts as he checked on the missile. The Verusean, whatever he'd been trying to do by going low, had now pinned himself against the water below. Eric saw the flash of an explosion reflect on the side of his canopy. That made two, maybe three bandits down by his hand. In the meantime Mark had nearly gone head-to-head with the Flanker that'd tried to pounce on them, and found himself tangling with two bandits. A second Flanker had been staying low with the first playing bait. Mark's gaze, or rather his glare, switched between each plane every few seconds as he was trying to turn the second bandit's attempted ambush around.

"Saber, got two bandits now. Think y'all can help me here?" He grunted.

"Coming in." Eric replied.

As Mark rolled through the top of a U-turn, Eric's Thunderhawk streaked by towards the other bandit. Mark dove on the other Flanker as it was rising; he felt like he was in a freefall as he tried to bring the nose up. He tilted the plane left and hit the brakes as hard as he could. The F-21 slowly eased from its death dive as the Flanker was circling around. The second he had lock, he let loose two Sidewinders.

"Shogun 205, Fox 2 Fox 2." Mark groaned.

He tightened his muscles harder and harder until he felt the pressure melting away. The two AIM-9s pushed on at max speed towards the J-11 as it broke and deploy flares. The one on the left fell for the trick as the enemy aircraft eased out of its sight, but the one on the right struck the enemy plane dead center, almost as if it were a fish being speared.

"Saber, where's that other bandit?" Mark asked as he lifted his Thunderhawk back into the sky.

"He cut and ran." Eric replied quickly.

The two jets eased back into a pair and circled once, searching for any sign of other bandits. Eric gave the radio more attention now so he could piece together what'd happened. Nearby, he caught the unsettling sight of a ship ablaze, and at the edge of his vision he could see a thick stack of smoke, much too big for a downed jet. A glance at his fuel gauge told him that he wouldn't be able to do much for now, though.

"Tex, what's your fuel status?" He radioed.

"Not as good as Ah want it." Mark replied.

"Roger…Shogun 2-1 is Bingo Fuel. Shogun Lead we're heading back to the boat." Eric radioed with a heavy breath.

"Shogun 2-2 is also Bingo." Mark added.

"Roger that boys…good job." McGavin spoke up. Eric broke towards home with his wingman close behind…

* * *

CAG O'Neil watched as the superstructure of the _OFS Jack T. Bennet_ (DDG-221) began to list as she was almost completely on her side. A long battle with the effects of two C-803 anti-ship missiles had finally been lost. Further back, her sister ship _OFS Pioneer_ (DDG-119) was still afloat but now bore large black stains and scratches on her starboard site. _Well Dixie, you certainly did better than the last time Osea fought a battle against an air raid_ He thought. His face flared in anger at thoughts of yesteryear and Eglin Straits. Dammit, couldn't they hit a serious threat first for once before it hit them? The world wasn't covered with Kedhans and Shamlaks. The MH-60 he was aboard flared and came around right towards another group of sailors floating on the open sea, awaiting rescue. CAG held on tight, almost distracted by his own thoughts. He shook his face to do away with the fatigue he was feeling.

The helicopter's diver leapt out into the ocean a handful of feet below and the Knighthawk's crew chief lowered the basket behind him. CAG moved back out of the way to make room for those coming aboard from the frigid ocean. He'd come along to think, and because he needed a break from the surge in work. Still, he couldn't help but need to analyze all that'd happened. What exactly had happened and how to proceed and change from here? That's what everyone was trying to figure out, in fact. Back on the carrier, everyone was awake and at their stations. After several hours of standing alert in anticipation of a second wave of attacks, things were returned to relative normal. Until they got a good idea of what had happened and what was going to happen from now on, the remaining pilots of VF-138 were all gathered in the ready room. Eric was well into a turkey sandwich as the gun camera footage from the fight was brought to the front of the room.

His mind had been replaying the fights over and over in his head, scrutinizing every part of them. He glanced at Mark, who was describing one of his kills to Wall. From what Eric gathered, he'd done his job to the best of his abilities. Despite the fact that he hadn't even taken any shots at the bomber force. It made things feel even stranger to him. He looked back up at Mark's description of his fight. Behind them, Vixen stopped and listened a few minutes before she cleared her throat.

"Hey, did your guys' JHMCS's work okay?" She asked.

"Yeah mine worked fine, though I didn't really employ it for off boresight shots like I mentioned earlier." Eric spoke up after he swallowed a bite of his sandwich.

"Story was about the same for me. Something happen, XO?" Mark chimed in.

"Mine was having issues, same with Stickler's and Fast Eddie's. Systems wants to get an idea of how widespread the issue is." She explained with a quick scowl.

"Yeah mine functioned perfectly when I used it." Wall assured. Vixen nodded and moved on, leaving the others to exchange looks.

"Saber before I forget, I wanna have a quick meeting in the department to see where we stand on weapons and see if we need to change up anything. We'll do a quick-and-dirty, though. When we get a better picture we can clean things up." Wall noted quickly.

"Yes sir." Eric nodded.

The conversations where brought to a halt as the door at the back of the ready room opened and their CO came walking in. McGavin held up a hand for Vixen to skip the formalities as he walked in, still dressed in his flightsuit. He looked through the tapes that'd been piled up on the desk, and then looked towards those who'd made it back. Dart had been the only squadron casualty. Wall and Blank had been shot down, but both had ejected and had spent a few hours in sick bay before returning to the unit. The man seemed to be lost in his own thoughts as they all sat there.

"I just got out of a meeting with CAG and it seems we have a bigger picture of what's going on. According to the reports we've received, we were attack by three squadrons of H-6 bombers with escort. It was part of a larger series of attacks that've been launched against both the Shimoji Islands and Songola." He stated. The man held up a hand as the room began to stir.

"For now the admiral has ordered the battlegroup to a heightened state of alert, but we're taking no offensive actions until we receive orders to do so. Both the BARCAP and the Alert Five are to be doubled, and as soon as we have an idea of what's going to happen the department heads and I will be having a meeting. Otherwise we follow the same schedule we always have. That's about all I know about the" He went on. The man drew in a reluctant breath; the exhaustion on his face was mirrored by those he commanded.

"Of immediate concern is the service for Dart. Due to the overall situation, we currently have no set date for said event. However, tomorrow we're going to gather for breakfast and give one final toast to our fellow Ronin. We'll also be taking up a collection for the family to cover funeral expenses." He announced.

There was little protest from the rest of the squadron given the reason for the delay. When things were made clear to them, their minds calmed and switched gears. They were no longer confused, and now they could start forming their own pieces of the response to what'd happened. Osea was once again at war, and VF-138 was going to be in the thick of it.


	12. Chp 11: All Hands, Battle Stations!

_Chp. 11: All Hands, Battle Stations!_

 _February 15, 2024_

 _Kabaru, The Shimoji Islands_

An unearthly wailing swallowed up the sound of the heater. The two figures in a tangled mess of limbs stirred, but were well asleep for the first few seconds the noise eerily called from the outside. Finally, James recognized the sound as an alarm and rose, pushing away the low bed's blankets as he drew himself up. The Marine cocked a brow as he stared in the general direction of the noise, his mind trying to push past the exhaustion of intimacy. The room seemed fuzzy at first, until he registered the siren as a potential sign of danger. James squinted and flattened his hair a few times. He began plotting his way through the dark room towards whatever it might be. Before he could move, he felt a familiar pair of hands clutch his wrist and looked over to see Otome under the blankets, almost as if she were hiding from the sound. He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"What is that?" She whispered softly in accented Osean Lenish.

"I don't know babe, but I'm gonna find out okay?" He replied. Otome nodded slowly and pushed some of her light pink hair away from her face.

"Keep the door open, okay?" She added.

"Otome, do you know something I don't?" He asked as he stood up. She shrugged.

"I don't like that sound; I think it's an emergency siren."

"Yeah…I'll be right back, okay babe?"

"Okay…be safe, James."

He kissed her once more and picked his way across the clothes scattered about the cramped bedroom, fishing up his boxers as he groped for the light. He turned it on as he hobbled on his underwear and flipped the switch for the living room's lights. James walked to the balcony and stopped, turning around and grabbing his hoodie from the bedroom. He slid open the glass door and walked into the frigid air. The wailing faded long enough to allow a voice to read an announcement. James strained to hear it, still not completely awake yet. He gripped the balcony and leaned forward to try and hear it. The announcement was warning people to stay indoors…due to some kind of attack?

"James, your phone is vibrating!" Otome called.

The Marine shooed his thoughts and hurried inside. Otome, also half-dressed, held out his phone and he accepted the call just before it could send the caller to voice mail. His heart sank as he caught a quick glimpse of the caller: Staff Sergeant Benedict.

"Yes, Staff Sergeant!" James barked, trying not to sound too groggy.

"Corporal Bradford, you are expected to answer your phone by the third ring when a superior officer or other such superior individual calls you! What in the galdarn heck are you doing, lollygagging like this?!" The familiar voice demanded, choosing to be screeching over the normal volume of his yelling. Otome flinched at the sudden noise.

"Apologies Staff Sergeant, I was attempting to deduce why a siren was so-"

"I don't care! Where are you?! Says you're off base this weekend!"

"I'm in Kabaru, Staff Sergeant."

"Good, then get your sorry ass to the landing! Now, you yahoo!"

"Aye aye, Staff Sergeant!"

His Staff Sergeant hung up and James leapt into action, if only to avoid getting yelled at further. Otome stood in confused silence as he began to collect his clothes. He sniffed himself and hurried towards the bathroom.

"James, you gonna tell me what's going on?" Otome asked, her tanned face contorting into an annoyed frown.

"I need to get back to the landing as soon as I can. I gotta borrow your shower." He explained hurriedly as he grabbed a duffel bag and dragged it inside with him.

"Why?" She asked, grabbing the door and opening it as he got in.

"I don't know but if Lord Nelson's yelling at me then it's important."

"Yeah but doesn't he always yell?"

"He's being louder than usual this time."

Less than half an hour later, a hastily-dressed and groomed Otome was reluctantly following James down the stairs to her car. Neither spoke to each other as they got into the battered, maroon-colored hatchback and took off into the frigid night. He rested a hand on her thigh; she glanced at him.

"Babe, you know I don't wanna hurt you. It's part of my job; not my call." He sighed.

"I'm still pissed, James. Fucking assholes taking my man when we supposed to have a weekend alone." She said as she lit a cigarette.

"With luck I'll be back by morning at the latest."

"I'm not holding my breath."

Otome went to the road that ran along the waterline of the city until they reached a fork in the road. Otome went right onto a small peninsula until they were approaching a cul-de-sac with a guard post at the far end. Otome stopped the car as a Marine MP approached in full combat gear, sans helmet, and held up a hand. James pulled out his ID and showed it as the window was rolled down. The man stopped and nodded, and James got out. Otome hurried out.

"Hey hey, hold up Miss. Base is on lockdown." The MP said, holding up a hand. Otome's temper was revealed to be especially short right now.

"He's my boyfriend, so fuck you! He's mine!" She roared. James held up a hand towards the MP and walked around to Otome, who was fuming.

"Calm down, Otome. It's okay." He said softly. She gripped him tightly.

"Fuck it being okay, James." She hissed. He let her go so he could look her in the eyes.

"Until you come back, it's not okay. I refuse to believe it's okay. I finally get something good in my life and after a few months it's being taken? Fuck that shit." She stressed.

"And you don't think I feel the same way, Otome?" He asked, feeling a little angry himself.

She gulped, hard, and buried her face in his neck. He could see other cars gathering in the cul-de-sac, taxis most of them. She shook in him arms a few times; he kept her close as fellow Marines hurried from their rides towards the MPs. He caught a glimpse of Izzy passing by and decided he needed to get a move on. He looked down at Otome once again.

"I'm scared, James…I don't know what's going on…" She said, her voice cracking. He pushed some of her hair back.

"I Otome, I know. I wish I could tell you."

"Just…call me, okay?"

"I will…"

He paused to kiss her forehead. She finally stopped herself from crying, though a few tears had escaped her eyes. The promise of a call was at least somewhat reassuring, if only for now.

"You'll always be my baby, alright? I love you a lot and I love everything about, good and bad." James told her. A smile flashed across her face briefly; he'd hit one of her weaknesses.

"I'm ya queen, not ya baby, Devildog." She corrected, managing a wink.

He chuckled and lifted her off her feet to give her one final kiss. Feeling at least a little better, he let her go and told her he loved her one last time before he adjusted his bag and walked towards the MP who'd stopped him. James couldn't help a forced grimace.

"The fuck's even going on, man?" He asked. The fellow grunt's face tensed for a minute.

"According to what I was told, Verusea just hit up the Shimoji Islands…Songola too. Whole bunch of commando attacks and air raids." He announced…

* * *

Eric leaned his head back and sighed as the cascade of water fell down on him. A shower aboard a carrier had never felt so good. The heat eventually faded and settled at a lukewarm state, but Eric couldn't bring himself to complain. Just the feeling was enough to relax his tense state, to take him back to the warm hot springs he'd spent part of his leave at. If nothing else, at least the Veruseans had been kind enough to let him enjoy a short vacation before they decided to start a war. The snowflakes descending as he and his friends enjoyed themselves and talked about whatever they wanted. Or the blissful intimacy of later sharing a spring with his beloved Misaki. She was cute when she got drunk, he thought with a soft chuckle. The warmth of memories with her turned into a stab of pain as reality reminded him that now Misaki was farther away than ever.

Eric frowned and stared at the shower curtain. He had "seen the elephant", so to speak, and the elephant was a nasty son of a bitch. He was an enigmatic son of a bitch, too. An eerie quiet was resting over the Southwest Pacific, leaving both sides in a temporary standoff. The "JW" was in a lull right now. The level of activity was still noticeable as boots clicked by every so often past the shower room door, but each person was walking at a fast but calm pace. Most of it, Eric knew, was a result of the way of aerial warfare. Even premade plans took time to execute. The flying part was only a fraction of it; the rest was planning and preparation. Osea and its allies were also on the defensive, too. Eric scowled at the thought; there was a quietly embarrassing feeling about being on the defensive. His wandering thoughts followed the water down the drain as he heard the shower room door open.

"Whoever the fuck's in there better save me some hot water." Sharky called, annoyance clear in his words.

"First come first serve, Goldie." Eric quipped. The contractor snorted.

"Bitch please, I'll break your skinny ass in half." He declared.

Eric laughed once and got back to showering. He heard Sharky growl as the water, ice cold at first, made contact with his skin.

"So what's good in the world of Tinker Toys, Saber?" Sharky asked.

"Oh, you know, just proving the naysayers of aircraft carriers wrong...again." Eric replied sarcastically.

"I for one am glad you did. Gale's probably the same way."

"A lot different when the ASMs are coming your way, huh?"

"Try scary, man. Like...I never thought I could feel that powerless. I promise you I don't get scared often, but this time I could feel it."

"I know the feeling man. Don't distance it; it makes you human."

"Only way to beat it is to get back in the saddle, man."

"Despite myself right now, I can agree to that."

"So how's Gale taking all of this?"

There was a sigh.

"Same way Kat is, man. Same way Kat is. Just...not as emotionally as Kat would." Sharky replied.

There was a brief pause between the two. Eric looked towards where Sharky's voice had been coming from and searched for something else to talk about. The conversation had begun to subtly border on dark territory. The kind of stuff that he wouldn't even talk to Saki about. Sharky was right; Eric needed to get back in the saddle and soon. Besides the fear, Eric could also feel an itch; an itch to feel the rush again...

* * *

A marathon session video conference with the heads of Songola, the Shimoji Islands, Yuktobania and several other allies had been tiresome, but it had at least brought about a much-needed first step. Several nations, upon learning of what'd happened, were willing to step forward to condemn the actions by Verusa. While the men in Shen-Jiau might've laughed at the need to care about world opinion, at the same time it meant that Osea would see increased support for its response. If nothing else, it kept the number of parties directly involved from growing. David Reyes hoped to keep the ball rolling by getting the military side organized. In light of a deliberate attack on Osean forces, he was granted the power by Osean Congress to take whatever military action was needed to pacify them and defend national interests. Despite the general mood, he came hurrying into the Situation Room under Brighthill and grabbed a seat, motioning the others to do the same.

"Alright Welsh, what've we got?" Reyes breathed out as he sat at the head of the Situation Room's table. The General stood up and strode to a digital display on the side of the room. As the lights dimmed, a series of dots appeared across the Shimoji Islands and Northern Songola.

"Mr. President, roughly six hours ago Verusean forces launched a massive and multi-pronged attack against the Shimoji Islands and Songola, attacking a number of targets both military and industrial. These attacks were carried out by a combination of air raids, missile strikes, and attacks by Verusean commandos. The map here shows all the targets hit that we know of, and their color indicates what carried out the attack."

"How successful were they?" Secretary Hanesworth asked.

"Mixed, as far as we can tell. The commandos caused a great deal of havoc but several raids were stopped, to include an attempted attack on the embassies in Sasomi and Boeyong. Thanks to standard procedures and responses, many of the air raids were stopped or had little effect. Issue is that our side still lost a number of aircraft and several ships. Our base at Kotoko was hit by a commando raid, as was Solomon. Both are in the midst of repairs. Our two carrier groups also came out dinged but otherwise they're still plenty combat capable."

Welsh looked towards Snow, who nodded in agreement.

"CINCPAC has them moving south a bit to be in a better position to defend the northern islands." He added.

"So we haven't been totally knocked out, then." Reyes said.

"No sir, but we're still not in a good situation. Several of our major bases have been hit and it'll take time to get them back in shape. We can assume the Veruseans will try again and what aircraft we have lost will need replacing. The same goes for our allies. I talked with the Sogolian and Shimoji Chiefs of Staff and they didn't paint a pretty picture." Welsh replied.

"What about Yuktobania?" Reyes asked. Welsh shrugged.

"It's all quiet up there, sir. Not so much as a single shot fired. They just got past a nuclear scare, too. Pretty sure they don't want a fight." He explained.

"If I may interject?" Uragami spoke up. Eyes turned to him.

"Do we know what the Veruseans may be up to...Ryder, do you have any clue?" He asked. The CIA director shook his head.

"Other than the briefing presented on that new code phrase, nothing." He explained. The man blinked several times, trying to keep his focus. Not that anyone else looked much better. Secretary of Commerce Glen Crawford leaned forward and cleared his throat.

"Given what I know of Verusa's overall situation, I'd say they're making a play to topple the economic edge their neighbors have." He drawled in a gentlemanly rural twang.

"We also have to consider the historic rivalries, especially in regards to Songola. Those new coded messages refer to Verusa's view of lands owned by both countries. Besides the land in northern Songola is practically useless." Ryder stressed.

"Land is land; it always has a use, Director." Crawford replied coldly.

"That's enough from both of you." Reyes declared sternly. The room quieted as eyes went back to the General.

"So all we can assume is that they intend to beat up on their neighbors to make things better at home...what's happened since then, General? Since the initial wave of attacks?" Reyes asked cautiously. Welsh's face grew more and more grim, which for the others was a very discomforting sight. A new map helped highlight what had him feeling that way.

"Well sir, approximately an hour after the attacks, reports came in of airborne landings. We don't have a solid number yet but we estimate at least two divisions have dropped on the Shimoji Islands. In Songola, we can confirm that Verusean ground forces have advanced south of the DMZ. They haven't gotten far but 25th Cavalry and the local Songolian units aren't gonna last long alone." Welsh explained. Reyes sat up straight, his face a determined mask.

"Well then we're not gonna leave em alone. What's been done so far on our end?" He boomed. The gathered officers all looked to the lead man.

"The standard measures. I've sent a heads up to the elements of the 16th Airborne Corps and General Rooster here has assured me that the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force at Camp Daisy is on alert and is ready to load up and get underway with an escort readied by Admiral Snow. General Reese here tells me that our transports are ready to start ferrying, they just need a destination and cargo. We just need your go." He said. Reyes glanced towards Hanesworth.

"I believe the actions General Welsh and the rest of the JCS has gathered are the best we'll get, Mr. President." She added.

"Let's hear it, then." Reyes replied, leaning back in his chair again. The image on the screen changed to a map with unit symbols placed about among defensive lines and other such details.

"For starters sir we'll need to replenish the losses we've sustained in aircraft and ships." Welsh said.

"Approved."

"Second, Reese has given me a good idea of what kind of air power we can bring in to help reinforce what we have there. He and his boys are already tweaking predetermined plans to meet the situation."

Reyes, for the first time, browsed the folder that'd been set at his place on the table. He nodded several times, then looked at the Air Force officer to answer a few questions.

"What kind of timetable are we looking at?" He inquired.

"About 48 hours, sir." Reese nodded.

"And our forces in the region can hold til then?"

"They'll give it their all, sir. They're all aware they'd be out on a limb for the first bit if anything happened out there."

"Alright then, get those units moving. I want Secretary Hanesworth in the loop on all this, too."

"Of course, sir."

"General, what else do you recommend?"

"We'll want to get 1st MEF, 8th Mountain and the 101st into the region while heavier forces are being loaded up and brought across the Pacific."

The OMC's Commandant cleared his throat softly.

"On that note if I may also put out my own recommendation, Mr. President, I would like your okay to assemble the elements of 3rd MEF in the Shimoji Islands." Rooster spoke up when acknowledged. The President leaned forward.

"What do you have in mind, General?" Reyes asked. Rooster had a confident look on his face.

"Like all MEFs, they're more infantry-heavy than anything else. I think General Welsh will agree with me that Songola will need to be reinforced by mechanized forces. It's a safe assumption that the Veruseans are making moves to invade both Songola and the Shimoji Islands. If they didn't want to get a foothold on the latter they wouldn't have bother with paratroopers. Lighter forces with decent armored support will do better on the islands."

"And the 1st MEF?"

"Reinforces the 3rd."

"What about the 101st and the 8th, General Welsh?"

"They'll be deployed to Songola where they can make use of the more rugged terrain south and southeast of the DMZ. They can be in position in about 72 to 96 hours." Welsh nodded, referring to a manila folder thick with notes.

"Very well then. How long will it take to get the heavier units to Songola?" Reyes inquired. He didn't like the answer he got.

"A week or two. It takes a great deal to move heavy vehicles and our planes can only carry a few at a time. We intend to make use of some of our prepositioned equipment to counter that. Besides 16th Airborne, I'd like to call up 4th Armored Division and the 54th Infantry Division too."

"Do it, and do everything in your power to make sure we get what's needed over their fast."

"We'll give it our all, sir."

"Is there anything else? What are our allies doing?"

"Simply put, sir, they're doing the same thing we are. I intend to pass along our plans to them so we can better coordinate things with them. Going back to the manpower issue, we do have Songola's large reservist force. Like I've constant said it'll take time, but they'll be a valuable asset for us."

"Let's hope so, General...alright that's it for now. We're already short on time; dismissed. Ryder I still want that intelligence brief in an hour." Reyes said, stretching his arms and legs as he talked.

"Will do, sir." the man said as he stood up.

As the others left, Reyes motioned his Secretary of State aside. Uragami diverted from the others as they left and wordlessly stopped while the president paced for a minute. He looked at a globe perched atop a short pillar in the corner, then at the secretary.

"Satoshi, I want our ambassador from Verusa recalled as soon as possible. The Veruseans can have the diplomatic option with us when they agree to use it on our terms. I'm not going to waste my time with them if this is what they want." He whispered. Uragami's face tensed, but he nodded.

"Yes sir." He replied.


	13. Chp 12: Northern Gate

_Chp. 12: Northern Gate_

 _February 17, 2024_

 _Near Kotoko Air Force Base_

The four F-21s cruised across the greyish blue skies, glimpses of the land below rolling beneath them. Eric looked back towards Mark and raised a cautious thumbs up, to which his friend did the same. Eric looked forward again and pointed a finger at his instruments and panels, mumbling to himself. He raised his head again and rotated it from side to side to keep it from getting stiff. His aircraft still only detected friendly radars, several of them in fact.

"Empress, Empress this is Shogun 2, flight of four...do you read, Empress?" Vixen spoke up. Eric glanced towards her plane while they waited for a response.

"Shogun 2 this is Empress, we read you. Standby for tasking." A voice from an E-3G Sentry to their northeast radioed.

That task was helping to guard Kotoko Air Force Base. The instillation had been chosen as one of the major receiving points for Osean forces coming to the islands. That and the two squadrons of F-22A Raptors it housed made it a natural target, at least in the mind of the defending side. CAPs near the base had become a very frequent event, enough to keep CVW-9 tied down for a while. With JW positioned east of the islands to give it breathing room, it seems that the Veruseans had simply let the ship and what remained of its fleet go. Eric had guessed they had other priorities. Even so he was technically covering the boat as well.

"Shogun 2 this is Empress, you're cleared to relieve Champion 3 on the south CAP stations. Canine 2 will be relieving Gambler 2 on the northern CAP stations. Check in with the _Kongou_ and _Haruna_ as soon as you're on station." Their controller ordered. The leader of Canine 2, a flight of F-35As with the 32nd Tactical Fighter Squadron, was quick to acknowledge the order.

"Understood...okay Shoguns 2-3 and 2-4 will take the near CAP and we'll take the far one."

"Gotcha 2-1." Eric replied.

He watched as Vixen and Blank banked to the right and hurried away into the distance. Once they were far enough away Eric did the same, with Mark close behind. They adjusted course slightly, then came back to the left.

"Gambler 2 this is Shogun 2, we're at IP. Come around one more time and we'll take up your stations." Vixen radioed.

"Roger that Shogun 2, coming around."

Eric watched the F-22s pass by, then looked at Mark and gave him the signal to break off. More radio calls broke the silence as the two Shimoji destroyers off the coast were contacted. The Oseans could imagine their Shimoji counterparts were weary; the thought of being downed by his side was an insult of the highest magnitude to Eric.

"Shogun 2-1 this is Shogun 2-3, we're on station at this time." He commented.

"Roger that...Okay Empress, Shogun 2 is now on station." Vixen assured.

"Canine 2 is also on station, Empress." The lead F-35 radioed.

Eric switched on his radar and drank in the situation slowly and thoroughly. They had eight fighters on stations, with Kotoko and the carrier ready to scramble more, plus the arsenals of the two destroyers below. The Sentry also had two pairs of Raptors to guard her, but they were more or less tied to defending the bigger jet. The same went for Kotoko's batteries of MIM-104G Patriots, whose sole concern was the base they surrounded. Eric had barely gotten a good idea of things when the Sentry jumped on the airwaves. The conversation between flight leads and the ships was cut off by a commanding voice.

"Canine, Shogun, be advised that the _Kongou_ has picked up bandits. Six aircraft, likely Flankers, at Heading 277, 150 Miles out at Angels 22."

"Roger that Empress. Okay Shoguns 2-3 and 2-4, go low and search for any bandits that might be trying to slip past us. Canine, can you break off two of your jets to assist?" Vixen ordered.

"Roger, Canine 2-2 follow me." The OAF lead replied.

Eric directed Mark to take a trailing position a few miles away and descended towards the coastline below. Somewhere in his head the muffled twang of some bass-heavy song kicked off in his head like an opening theme to the upcoming fight. Eric leaned forward a little as the beat seemed to mirror his blood flow. His jet roared out over the ocean, screaming only a few thousand feet off the ground. He searched and searched for anything in the air. The form of the Haruna passed by on the far right. She had a clear corridor ahead of her, with the Oseans on either side. Missiles from her forward VLS raced ahead and above the fighter. He only glanced towards the weapons to ensure the destroyer hadn't seen something he'd missed. Ahead, and far from the ships, dark specs appeared on the horizon. Eric pushed it up, just shy of afterburner, and zeroed in on the center of the incoming aircraft.

"Shogun 2-4, I've got a visual on at least four aircraft at 12 low. Hit em from the left and I'll go high." He radioed.

"Gotcha, Saber." Mark replied, leaning into the maneuver as he made it.

" _Kongou_ , _Haruna_ , this is Shogun 2-3; be on the lookout for bandits at low altitude how copy?" Eric added.

"Understood Shogun; keep them away from us!" One of the ships replied. Eric kept his comments to himself.

The RWR chirped as the incoming bandits turned on their radars to counter the two threats. Eric pulled up and trailed chaff and let his radar take over watching them.

"Canine 2-1, what's your position?"

"At your eight, Shogun...34 miles out. Matchstick, swing out parallel to me!" The OAF pilot radioed.

"Gotcha Ferret."

"Shogun we'll take the bandits to your left; you get the other guys, alright?"

"Roger that, Canine 2-1. Tex, take the guys near the middle and I'll take the far right."

Eric multitasked as the separation between parties wound down steadily. The Flankers had sped up and were closing in to missile range. Eric responded by selecting one of them, then a second, for his AMRAAMs. The pair he'd claimed split, going in very opposite directions. Eric went hard right, and then snapped back left so they were both back out in front of him. The lead Flanker broke into him while his wingman circled around behind. Eric narrowed his attention to the lead Flanker for now as the other seemed to be guarding his wingman's rear, likely from Mark. As soon as he had a lock, Eric depressed the button.

"Shogun 208, Fox 3."

The single missile ran off ahead while Eric maneuvered. The Flanker used its defensive break to get its nose back on the Osean and fire two PL-12s at their maximum range. Eric worked the countermeasures nob repeatedly and turned into the attack, pushing the throttles up as he came around. The AMRAAM adjusted its path as its rocket motor kept burning. The two jets were constantly edging their nose towards one another, each seeking the best angle for another missile shot. Eric broke to the right again as the PL-12s were still coming, then snapped left to arc around them and bore in on their launch platform. The back half of the Flanker disappeared in a flash. Eric leaned his aircraft to the right and put his nose on the other Flanker.

The fight shrunk into a furball as the jets on both sides closed. Eric broke right, turning after his next target as the jet went the same way and nosed up, accelerating as its pilot guided the J-11 towards the sky. He selected his Sidewinders and swiveled his head in unison with the Flanker's movements. The enemy fighter pulled into a tight, high-speed corkscrew. Eric pushed himself back against the seat as he could feel his head spinning a little. The Flanker deployed flares as it exited the maneuver and turned left, banking towards the heart of the fight. The Flanker reversed and rushed by one of its friends. Eric looked back, but was happy to see another Thunderhawk coming up to meet it and keep his tail clear. The J-11 kept up its turn to the right and then snapped left again, into a dive. Eric slowed and followed his target down towards the ocean. More dots appeared on the radar screen as they two jet descended.

"Heads up, we've got more contacts. Heading 277, same vector as first group. They're at the edge of my radar." Eric reported.

"Roger that, we're reaching out to Kotoko now. In the meantime I've got a fourship of Eagles, callsign Priest 2, inbound from Heading 130. They will engage as soon as they're in weapons range." Empress assured.

Eric impatiently demanded for his Sidewinder to get a lock-on as the bandit pulled him towards the new threats. Suddenly the enemy fighter nosed up, and the Osean was quick to follow. The fighter then whipped its nose in the opposite direction and slowed, leaving Eric to accelerate and cut right in front of the Flanker hard and fast. He looked back and caught a glimpse of a missile going ballistic. The Flanker continued its maneuver until it was relatively behind Eric. Eric grunted and swerved to the left, deploying flares to get himself some breathing room. He started nosing up, daring to move the throttles forward in the hopes of getting space and an opportunity to lose the Flanker.

"This is Canine Lead; I'm above you Shogun 2-3." Ferret assured.

"Roger that Canine…" The blonde groaned under the Gs.

"Okay keep coming, keep goin up, ke-shit, hang on!"

Eric looked back to see the F-35 snapping to the right, deploying flares. In turn, he pulled the stick back as far as he could and went into a half-barrel roll. The Flanker zoomed by, still defending against the now-gone Lightning II, and tilted to the left. Eric caught the bandit there and let the jet extend so his missile would have time to arm. As soon as he let loose the missile, Eric broke towards the new bandits, letting out a quick "Fox 2" call as he went. He looked over his left shoulder as the AIM-9 chased after the Verusean aircraft. He turned his gaze towards the new bandits when the missile exploded. A tally mark he'd visualized in his mind struck a line across four hash marks, and he stowed the fact for later.

"Canine Lead, you still with us?" He breathed out.

"Roger, roger, Canine Lead was engaged by new bandits...they're staying pretty low; don't think they're more Flankers." Ferret explained.

"Can you get an ID on em, Canine?" Vixen asked.

"Standby."

Eric rose up, well above the altitude of the machines opposite his. He selected his AMRAAMs again.

"All aircraft be advised, all aircraft be advised; third group of bandits is following second group. Remaining bandits with the first are bugging out at this time. Saber Ah'm on my way to rejoin y'all." Mark reported. Eric was glad to have his wingman back.

"Understood Tex, what's your position?"

Approaching from yer nine; maintain course and altitude so Ah can join."

"Roger, go loose deuce again."

He selected the bandit most directly in front of him and nosed down. The enemy formation, still 35 miles away, broke up as their enemy closed in, moving sluggishly and suggesting they were the Flanker's escortees. His own target deployed chaff and snapped upwards; Eric nosed up to keep himself on a good intercept course until he had a lock.

"Shogun 208, Fox 3." Eric reported duly.

"Looks like they're Flounders. Flounders inbound." Ferret reported immediately after that.

Eric kept his nose on his target, searching for more targets while he closed in on his current prey. Finally a pair of long, large objects fell from the plane, but it was too late. Eric snapped to the right as he spotted more aircraft from the broken Verusean formation. There seemed to be one or two in every direction he looked. Mark pointed out the closest pair and the two Thunderhawks slowed and hooked around to pursue. Eric looked down and saw the long, narrow bodies of three JH-7Bs well beneath him. Large objects protruded from under their wings; anti-ship missiles.

"Empress this is Shogun 2-3, we're gonna need some backup here. New contacts are Flounders." Eric requested. He got silence in response. The pilot tried again as he swooped down upon the strike aircraft, but still got nothing.

"I repeat: Empress we have inbound strike jets...Shogun 2-3 here, I've lost contact with Empress. Anybody in contact with Empress?" Eric asked.

"Empress is down, Empress is down; bandits coming from the north." An unknown voice, almost incomprehensible, warned.

"This is Canine 2-2, bandits are north of who?...Give us a vector here." One of Canine's fighters snapped back.

"Canine this is Robin 3, negative negative. We'll take the northern bandits; maintain your CAP. Robin 3 will take northern bandits."

Already committed to the two Flounders out ahead, Eric selected his M61 to save his missiles for more fighters and made a pass at the lead striker, giving the other to Mark. Dull yellow tracers floated past the attack aircraft, slowly closing in to the right side of the enemy aircraft. The enemy jet went to the left and slowed to throw off the Osean fighter. Eric nosed up and looped around at an angle to stay behind the JH-7. The enemy aircraft banked back towards its original course. As Eric rolled in on the now damaged Verusean to make another pass, the two YJ-82s beneath its wings fell away.

"Heads up, at least two Vampires airborne." He radioed.

"Make that at least four. Four Vampires inbound." Vixen corrected.

Eric stayed with the JH-7 for a second before it dove for the deck in full afterburner. He squeezed off another short burst from his gun, but the Flounder remained aloft, albeit with several dings and wounds on it. Eric let the jet go and circled, searching for the two missiles the striker had let go.

"All aircraft be advised this is Backstop, we're on station at this time." A new, somewhat familiar (because the Navy pilots had heard it before) voice. Backstop was the callsign of an E-2 from the _Wellington_.

"Backstop this is Shogun Lead, how many vampires are up?" Vixen demanded.

"We're tracking 12 plus, Shogun."

One of the ships below was quick to interject.

"All friendly aircraft keep clear of our fields of fire, keep clear of our fields of fire!"

Eric kept himself where he was, well southwest of the nearest ship. Mark was pushing away towards the third group of bandits that Priest had gone tearing after.

"Backstop, any word on Kotoko getting up some more birds?" He asked.

"Standby Shogun, standby." The Hawkeye stressed.

Eric readied himself for another fight. His fuel was ticking down with every second and the fights he'd been through had made him burn more. He selected his AMRAAMs again and prepared to start shooting at the next wave of bandits. He tried to get an idea of how many his side still had up. They'd lost their first AWACS and he had the feeling a few people on the CAPs had followed suit. Canine was scattered about, trying to chase down JH-7s that were still in the area.

"Okay Tex, I'm gonna have to shoot and scoot on this one. You do the same, alright? Don't want your sorry ass out here alone." He spoke up.

"Roger that...okay Priest be heads up, Shogun 2-3 and 2-4 are coming in." Mark replied.

"Roger Shogun." The ead F-15 replied hurriedly.

"Okay Tex, take those two at our ten and I'll get the two at our one, got it?"

"Roger that."

Eric nosed slightly left and centered his Thunderhawk on the closest of two J-11s. The F-15s, or rather the two that were still up, were to the northeast of that; Eric maneuvered so he could box the two Flankers in using the fight the two Shimoji birds were in. One of the J-11s started to turn towards him while the other was aiming its nose at some unseen entity.

"Gambler 1-1, Fox 3 Fox 3." An Osean twang called.

The two Flankers broke to avoid Gambler's shots. Eric snapped to the right, hailing Mark to follow him towards the friendly voice. The picture was faint, likely because the aircraft shooting were the OAF's much-vaunted "Air Dominance" fighters.

"Alright Shogun, break right and disengage. Same goes to you, Priest; Gambler 1 and 4 are in." The lead pilot of eight F-22s radioed.

"Roger that Gambler, they're all yours." Eric allowed.

The Verusean flight broke to defend against the growing barrage of AIM-120s while the now-relieved Oseans and Shimojis pushed back towards land. The formations closed in, regrouping so they could count their lost. Shogun had come through with all members still up, though Vixen's bird had taken some dings. Canine still had three of its fighters while Priest was down to two. Eric looked to the far left to watch the Raptors scream by to continue the battle, leaving their counterparts to get home and ready up for the next fight. _Kick their teeth in, Gambler_ Eric thought with a growl…

* * *

The sound of a notification from her phone almost made Misaki jump to her feet. She quickly put the book aside, or rather (uncharacteristically) tossed it aside and seized the device in her hands. She tapped in the code to unlock the thing and quickly opened Skype. Eric's avatar alone had her breathing a sigh of relief.

 _Eric: Saki, you there?_

 _Misaki: Eric! *glomp*_

 _Misaki: You're okay! I was so worried and it's been days and James said he hadn't heard from you. Are you okay? Where are you?_

 _Eric: In my stateroom, safe and sound. Tired and sweaty but safe and sound._

 _Misaki: Thank goodness. I was so worried. *kiss*_

 _Eric; I miss you, a lot._

 _Misaki: I miss you too. I want you back home so much. I don't like the thought of you being out there, getting shot at…_

 _Eric: I'm sorry, Love._

 _Misaki: Just please be careful, okay? And don't be sorry; as much as I want you home I accepted the whole package._

 _Misaki: Well, except for the damned FRG part._

 _Eric: I know I know, but this may be one of the few times they prove helpful._

 _Misaki: We had a "mandatory" meeting about contact procedures, care packages and how we could help._

 _Eric: I can give a few suggestions..._

She should've seen it coming, but Misaki was still caught off guard when his suggestions were, well, rather suggestive. His girlfriend blushed and covered her face as she typed a response.

 _Misaki: Hey! You behave!_

 _Eric: *wink*_

 _Eric I wuv u, Saki-chaaaan~_

 _Misaki: *sigh* And I, for some reason, love you too._

She caught herself before he could make anymore smart-mouth replies.

 _Misaki: I said behave!_

 _Eric: I am, I am~_

 _Eric: Anyways, going back to pictures, I have a couple to share._

 _Misaki: Oh?_

Eric responded by sending two images to her. Both downloaded after a minute's wait and turned into previews. The first came with the comment "The four of us all made ace today. Plus I figured a picture showing Mark and I are okay would help" and showed Eric, Mark, Vixen and Blank in front of one of the squadron's jets. Misaki recognized the first three and knew of the fourth; all of them were still in their flight gear, sweaty and a bit pale but all smiling victoriously.

 _Eric: Sorry but I gotta go. I think the other one is the one you'll like much more._

Misaki sighed, disappointed but understanding. She figured she should feel lucky he'd be able to talk this long. Hearing from him had aliveated plenty of her fears, though.

 _Misaki: Your lady noble prays for the safe return of her beloved samurai, and eagerly awaits the day she can be in his arms again._

 _Eric: And he will return. I love you, Misaki *hugs and kisses*_

 _Misaki: I love you, too *hugs and kisses*_

He signed off after that, leaving her to look at the second picture that'd been sent. It was from the night they'd been at the Shiatamii O'Club. A candid shot, the two lovers were snuggled close together on the couch. They were in the middle of a kiss, too. She could easily remember the warmth of that moment, like so many others but unique in its own way. It was enough to make her allow a few tears to escape the edges of her eyes.


	14. Chp 13: That Old Tango

_Chp. 13: That Old Tango_

 _February 18, 2024_

 _Route 42, Southern Shimoji Islands_

James stared into the distance, ignorant of the light snow floating down onto his helmet. He held grips on the Loader's M240 machine gun so hard his hands felt glued to it. Izzy was fast asleep down in the turret. James figured he still had a few hours before it was his turn to sleep. Bettz was next to him, watching the road as Jose followed the other tanks of the company towards an unknown destination. The Lieutenant hadn't said much on where they were going; maybe even she didn't know. James pulled a hand off of one of the 240's grips to tug down the balaclava covering his nose and mouth. His skin cooled quick, and after it started to feel too cool he pulled the fleece material back up. He adjusted his boom mike as the radio chirped.

"All Knight elements, all Knight elements this is Knight 6. Halt march and standby; we've got an accident up ahead." Captain William Stuart radioed.

"Roger that Knight 6. Knight 3 Actual to Knight 3, halt halt halt." Kourtney replied.

Jose brought the tank to a quick stop and immediately announced he was getting whatever sleep he could out of this delay. James knew his friend wouldn't have to wait long. The assumption was punctuated by one of the mine plow-equipped tanks in the column swinging out into the right lane to move to the front of the line. His thoughts tried to go elsewhere again but never got further than the scenery. They were rolling through farmland; perfect tank country. Barren fields, long harvested, occasionally rolled up small hills or to the edges of columns or groves of trees. Fences lined both sides of the highway, a far more common indication of civilization than houses or towns. Every now and again they'd passed roadblocks manned by nervous-looking SDF military police or anti-aircraft batteries set up to protect major sections of highway. James tensely glanced up at the distant rumble of a jet engine and waited until the noise faded. They were friendly, but he couldn't tell the type. For all he knew it might've been his brother or Mark.

Right now 3rd Tanks was in friendly territory, but it wasn't safe. The Veruseans had Special Forces teams and paratroopers scattered across the northern and southern parts of the country. James craned his neck and tried to see further out into the field in front of him. It seemed too open for any kind of ambush out here; that gave him comfort. He wished they could play some music to break the silence, but that was exactly the opposite of what they want to do. It's not like a line of 72-ton tanks and their support vehicles was already loud enough. The radio crackled again and James's head perked up.

"All Knight elements this is Knight 6, road is clear. Resume advance, single file." The Captain radioed.

After a few seconds, the tank lurched forward and followed the rest of Charlie Company down the highway. James couldn't help but look towards what had held them up now that they were moving again. A box truck had apparently tried to go around a bus (one of a small convoy) full of refugees and collided with a fuel truck. Tire tracks across the grassy median of the roads traced the path the impatient driver had taken. Thin wisps of smoke still lingered from the two burnt-out skeletons that'd been each vehicle; the bus was still stuck on the highway. What caused it to stop was anyone's guess. A fire engine and a few police cars, lights still flashing, were tending to the aftermath of the chaos while medical personnel combed through the wounded and the dead. The destroyed vehicles had easily been tossed aside by the M1's mine plow. James quickly looked away from the scene out of respect. He reaffirmed to himself that it didn't make him queasy.

The change in direction caused his eyes to fall upon a line of Type 96 APCs waiting for the scene to clear. SDF soldiers rode atop each, bundled up as tightly as they could be. Their equipment was beaten and dirty, and not a single one of them smiled. They were beaten, at least for now, and trying to get as far away from the fight as possible. James had to look towards Lieutenant Bettz as the tank rolled on.

"How far are we from the fight, El-Tee?" He asked over the tank's engine, nodding his head towards the retreating Shimojis. She looked their way and nodded solemnly.

"We'll get there by late morning…those are the guys were taking over for. 55th Infantry Regiment. They were tasked with holding a place called Nasamaru but got beaten back by a massed Verusean attack. We're apparently supposed to link up with some Shimoji paras being rushed in, too."

"Ah…"

"Verusean airborne holds the town; big crossroads coming in from the port of Fusamone. So no pressure, huh Brad?"

James chuckled, but only a grain of nervousness was in his voice.

"Sure thing El-Tee, since when are Marines ever under pressure?"…

* * *

"Yo Saber, got someone for you to meet."

Eric looked away from the calendar towards Sharky's voice and saw the contractor approaching with a stocky man with brown hair. The newcomer's name tag identified him as Captain Chris "Raptor" Riley, Osean Marines. He certainly fit the profile with his high-and-tight and rigid stance, which made Eric look unkempt with his short blonde hair and hands at his sides. He looked at the Red Ronin patch on the man's chest, then back at him.

"One of our replacements?" Eric asked Sharky.

"Yeah; Raptor and I have known each other a few years. We met when we were doing aggressor work out at Sapphire Valley." Sharky explained. Eric nodded at Chris and offered a hand.

"Lieutenant Eric Bradford; ever been on a cruise before?"

"It's only my second time aboard the boat, I gotta admit. My first cruise was the last time I did. Decided that it might be good to get back out here; I was awaiting assignment and they picked me up as a replacement for you guys. Before that I was with VMFA(AW)-410."

"Crusaders, eh? Anyways guess you'll get to hit the ground running if you came straight from the RAG, then. Do any time over Kedhan?"

Chris seemed to appreciate that Eric new the squadron's name.

"Between first cruise and aggressor time I did two deployments. Buncha ROs, a few of the bigger strikes."

"Now the big question: the callsign."

Chris flashed a humble grin.

"As any man who's proud of his mount, in my case the Rhino, I declared that we could face even the OAF's pride." He explained, to which Eric smirked.

"Well I mean, you're not wrong." He assured the pilot. Granted the Thunderhawk is superior to both his mind quipped.

"Good to hear you agree, but now you owe me a similar explanation."

"Fair nuff. Mine isn't anything fancy: I was told I did a lot of "saber rattling" in the RAG. Anyways welcome to the sandbox, Raptor. I assume the Skipper's filled you in?"

"He has; I came here cause he wants me on this hop."

Eric lead Chris to some seats so they could sit down and discuss a few things before the briefing started. Normally Eric would've objected to having a new pilot go out on a mission like this, but Chris knew his stuff so far. Even better, as an F/A-18F pilot Chris was well-versed in ground attack and nap-of-the-earth flying. Those kinds of skills were very relevant to the mission Commander McGavin was to brief them on when he came in.

"Good morning everyone. Today's mission is Iron Hand against Verusean air defenses around the port of Fusamone. Verusean airborne forces, backed up by heavy bombardment of the city and amphibious operations on February 16th, seized the city and over the past day have been working on securing it to bring in heavy forces. With friendly troops bogged down by the airborne landings further in-land and the city's defenders largely scattered and pacified, the next best option is to slow the Veruseans in establishing a foothold on the main island."

Maps showed that the city had a natural barrier around almost all of it: mountains and hills with several steep-sided valleys cutting through them. To the north and south were flat, coastal plains. McGavin drew attention to the valleys as photos were passed around as usual.

"Reconnaissance has indicated that the Veruseans have deployed HQ-16 and HQ-61 SAMs around the city limits, airport, and harbor. We believe these missiles arrived only recently via air or with the amphibious landings and only recently deployed. These will be backed up by PGZ-95 mobile AA systems, most of which are positioned with the more-numerous 61s. It's believed that there are six batteries of 61s, three of the 16s around the harbor, and two batteries of PGZs. The missiles appeared to be positioned to attack aircraft attempting to come in high and fast, where they'll have the greatest chance of success of getting a kill. As such, the attack will come in low through the northernmost pass…"

Six F-21s from the squadron would go in with four EA-18s as well as four F-35s from VFA-149. VF-123 would be flying CAP with Marine Super Hornets out of the base at Awatamii. Two B-1B Lancers would launch decoys to confuse the Verusean air defenses, one simulating an attack from the north and another from the southeast. They'd have a strike from the Harling right on their tails, so timing was going to be tight. Eric looked at Chris, who nodded confidently. It was a good sign, Eric reckoned. Those with him made him feel the same and vice versa, and Eric had a good feeling that Chris was going to fit in just fine…

* * *

"Shogun 1 is at IP, Pioneer."

"Roger that Shogun…okay Devil you're cleared to begin music. Thunderbolt, push to CAP station."

"Devil roger."

"Thunderbolt roger."

As their CAP pressed ahead at high altitude, the Shogun Thunderhawks and Gladiator Lightnings descended from the grey sky towards the Shimo River Valley. The Growlers went down with them, but two pulled off a few thousand feet above the mountains' peaks and split, each heading for their own stations. The F-35s banked left and twisted towards a shallow valley to the left. Shogun would get to push right up the main valley along the highway. According to their charts and GPS, they would come out five miles from the city, where they could get a surprise shot on two of the radars. The F-35s would roll down the slope, right on top of two batteries of HQ-61s and their defending PGZs, then release a wave of cluster bombs onto the lightly-skinned vehicles.

Trees dominated the view, broken only by the white cascade coming down from Tengoku Falls to the river and the winding highway that followed the curves of the land. Eric, playing the role of Shogun 1-3, eased his throttles back and drew in a deep breath as the walls of the valley rose up to trap his plane. Above him, an invisible ceiling that represented the line between safety and every SAM in the area that could get a shot at him. Chris fell in behind him and slightly to the left. Wall and Bruh lead the way. _Yea though I fly through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me…_ He thought. It was going to be a short transition, he reminded himself; he would be on the other side in seconds.

Eric selected the two AGM-88E Advanced Anti-Radiation Guided Missile (though it was more common to stick to the old name HARM, or High-speed Anti-Radiation Missile) hanging under his wings and dipped the stick to the left. The plane's load made it sluggish, very sluggish. Unlike the "light" weight when configured to do air-to-air, the combination of guided bombs, anti-radiation missiles, fuel tanks and jamming pod made for a notable drain on his agility. The gentle S-bend in the valley felt tighter. The RWR mumbled and buzzed as the B-1s' decoys tricked them into believe the Oseans were trying more conventional routes of approach. Eric constantly reminded himself that they weren't searching for him; his sensors were just picking up what they were designed to, even if he wasn't being targeted. He swung his plane, very carefully, back to the right and descended once more to keep away from the tops of the hills and mountains surrounding him. The road whipped past underneath him, followed by a sudden twinkle. From below. Eric looked back for not even half a second.

"Shoguns heads up...we've got someone down their shooting at us. Looks to be a heavy-caliber weapon." DeeJay radioed.

"Yeah I see it...shit, missile launch!" Seth chimed in.

Eric tried to look back again but couldn't see anything. Cold sweat inched down from under his helmet until he heard Seth reporting that the weapon had gone ballistic. Eric looked down as the lead half of the flight swung into the final stretch towards the exit, picking up the pace as they went. Eric spotted several camouflaged vehicles along the highway, moving away from the port. Figures were scattering from the machines as he passed overhead.

"Shogun Lead this is Shogun 1-3, I've got a visual on Verusean vehicles moving down the highway. Looks to be APCs and Jeeps." He radioed.

"Probably Verusean scouts...okay Shoguns push it up before they can get the word out." Wall ordered.

More missiles arced up into the air; Eric instinctively broke right as he exited the valley and deployed flares. The enemy missile, another HN-16, never cleared the terrain. Eric dropped his wing tanks and activated the ALQ-184 jamming pod slung to his centerline station. His RWR identified multiple airborne radars. They were moving away from him; he checked on the CAP to find they'd grabbed the Veruseans' attention. So far things were going good.

"Raptor, music on." He breathed out.

"Roger that, Saber...be advised I'm coming up on your 8 low." Chris replied.

The blonde looked back to see for himself as he turned to the left towards their target. Fusamone, which was right at the edge of his vision, was a city of low buildings that was pushed right up against the ocean, with the higher ground looming over it like a guardian of sorts. One of his HARMs almost immediately sniffed out a radar among the urban sprawl ahead and shared the information with his plane. Eric allowed Chris to break off and engage a second radar while he zeroed in on his own. On one of his displays, a triangle appeared, which was then pursued by a box. Eric came in fast and low, beneath the HQ-61's effective altitude. He pulled up only when the HARM had a lock-on.

"Shogun 208, Magnum." He radioed calmly.

The missile fell away like dead weight until its rocket motor ignited. Even at day, the flame was brilliant, almost blinding. Eric pulled to the right and smirked as both radars were turned off following his wingman's launch. _Too late to do that, muchachos_ He thought; the AGM-88 had the memory of an elephant. All the crew could do was run. Eric's path took him on a direct run towards the harbor, where the HQ-16s were purported to be. The craters from the assault a few days ago remained and Verusean-flagged ships were at almost every dock. The RWR went crazy as he closed in, alerting him that the local PGZs were looking to get a shot at him. Eric stayed in his right turn to avoid going over the city. Tracers floated by in front of him, forcing his plane to maneuver through them as if they were checkpoints in a video game. Their rate of fire was...lower than he'd expected. For a minute, he thought his perception of things had slowed, but he was quick to remember he wasn't dueling Shilkas. He reluctantly turned the back end of his plane towards the guns to get some space.

As he went to the right, explosions rippled across the PGZs' positions at the edge of a business park. One of the F-35s nosed up skywards, chaff sparling in the light as it rolled and weaved away from the fire below. Chris rocketed above him with a pair of missiles behind, losing track of the F-21 as it whipped back around towards the city. His other missile eagerly sought something to chase after. Radars were going off left and right either as HARMs struck them or they turned off to avoid getting killed. The HQ-16s' commander must've been either brave or foolhardy; the launchers were letting off weapon after weapon as their radars made broad brush strokes across the sky. The concentration of fire seemed to keep the raiders at bay for now. Whatever they'd had on patrol was fully tangled with the Thunderhawks and Super Hornets.

"Raptor…can you get a good angle on any of those Fire Domes?" He asked.

"It'll take a minute; I'm nose cold at the moment…" Chris grunted.

Eric banked back to the left as one of the harbor-based radars began to zero in on him and gained altitude to avoid any more HN-16s or PGZs that might be lurking below.

"Wall, be advised we've still got Fire Domes active in the port area." He reported.

"Roger, roger I see em on the RWR…okay Shoguns get some altitude and engage those radars near the harbor." Wall ordered.

"My RWR's a bit overloaded here, where are they?" Stickler asked.

"Uh check the western part of the city. Hang on…" Chris replied, distracted by more pressing matters.

"Okay okay hang on, I'll try and get you a better idea." Eric insisted.

His RWR was also a bit busy, but he at least had a general idea of where the thing might be. He raced over the southern edge of the harbor high and fast in a soft bank to the right. Below, amongst the unappealingly basic warehouses and offices, he caught a glimpse of a shape colored the same as the vehicles he'd seen earlier. He snapped left and made a tight spiral upwards, working quickly to deduce his position.

"Okay okay I've got him. Devil, can you confirm that Fire Dome's position and send a datalink?" Eric radioed, looking back over his shoulder as he turned away.

"Roger that, wait one."

Eric pushed towards the mountains, where he fell in with Wall, Stickler, and Deejay. They then came around to pick up Chris and Bruh before loosening up as the Verusean fighters to the east tried to break and pursue the lucrative strikers instead of being bogged down by their escorts. Eric switched his weapons to selection to the two GBU-38 JDAMs (Joint Direct Attack Munitions) hung from his forward fuselage stations. This close in, his other HARM was out of its envelope. The Growler they were talking to pointed out a second Fire Dome almost perfectly opposite the first. Wall and Bruh pushed on the second radar while Eric and Chris made a run at the first.

Eric's fingers frantically worked his controls as he went outside the city again and swung around for a run. The JDAM was guided by GPS coordinates, which mean that it was best against fixed targets. Thanks to the wonders of datalink, he didn't have to punch in each number by hand. Still, in most cases a JDAM's intended target was usually punched in well before it was about to be dropped. He made a fast, shallow dive at the Fire Dome and let the JDAM go with a quick "bombs away" call. As he snapped to the left in a hard U-turn, Chris released a second JDAM right after his lead. The two pumped out an almost endless stream of chaff and flares as the HQ-16s sought to chase them with parting gifts as their main radar became sentenced to death.

"Break, Raptor, break!" Eric wheezed loudly.

His wingman snapped left and swooped over the city's park while he roared down towards the coastline and twisted to the left. The F-21's RWR battled with 'Bitchin Betty", the plane's ground proximity warning system, as he rose to avoid planting himself into the terrain. He strained to look back and caught glimpses of two missiles coming after him. He reversed and began to loop around, switching to his last HARM. He launched the weapon and yelled "Magnum" more like a curse or insult than a declaration. It didn't matter if it hit anything; he just needed a distraction and the loss of the HARM's weight was a bonus. He went into a steep climb, releasing every last bit of chaff he could, and then dove spotted other F-21s below and adjusted his fall to slide in right behind them.

"Everyone up? Saber, Deejay check in" Wall demanded.

"Doin alright, Lead." Eric assured.

"What the blonde one said but fuck me, man!" Deejay half-laughed. Wall was quick to get back on the radio.

"Can it for now...Pioneer, Shogun is egressing east out of target area."

"Roger that Shogun, stay clear of Thunderbolt."

"Will do Pioneer, will do."

 _I really hate ground attack_ Eric thought with a frown. The next time he came roaring into Fusamone, he hoped he'd be flying high above it.


	15. Chp 14: Hot Commodity

_Chp. 14: Hot Commodity_

 _February 19, 2024_

 _Outside Nasamaru, Southeast of Fusamone_

The distant sounds of war were strangely absent from the morning air as 3rd Platoon's tanks sat in the woods just off the road in hastily-made defensive positions. James and the rest of the crew of _Gajin Kaiju_ were asleep behind the vehicle, where they could be warmed by the exhaust when the tank was powered up. The tank crews rotated who was on watch so they could try and all get a roughly similar amount of sleep. In the event something happened, the sleeping men were in full combat gear, save for their boots. Those rested next to each man, tops folded to keep snow out. The crews' arsenal of personal weapons: 9mm handguns and a pair of Mk.18 Carbines sat close at hand. The freezing weather had made the idea of sleeping in full gear a bit easier to deal with. Quite frankly, James felt as snug as snug could be right now.

Further back, in the cover of some tall bushes, Bettz, Benedict and the platoon's two junior tank commanders were huddled around a map and their breakfast of Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) and instant coffee. The Lieutenant looked up at the clouds, then back down at the map. They were well within the forest, just off of one of the major highways. The steady retreat of SDF forces had ceased almost completely. Any units still here were here to fight. The entirety of 3rd Tanks was present, along with major elements of the 10th Marine Regiment, 3rd Light Armored Recon Battalion, 3rd Recon Battalion, and a hastily-formed task force of Shimoji mechanized infantry pieced from units that'd been retreating. It was them against at least a brigade of Verusean paras. Bettz glanced up through the trees at the pale blue expanse beyond, then lowered her gaze back to the rest of her platoon's seniors.

"Okay, so this weather should hold for the next week before we get another solid snowfall. That means we should have fairly regular air support throughout this little jaunt, but we'll get to that when we get to that." She began. Bettz tapped a town on the map.

"The prize is Nasamaru. It's a vital crossroads for both sides; the Veruseans want it so they can properly funnel reinforcements and supplies from their beachhead up at Fusamone and link up with the southern landings. For now, our defense hinges, at least in part, on keeping their armored and mechanized units bottled up so that friendly aircraft can pound them before they get too far from the port. We'll be covering the flank of 10th Marines while they push on the town. We'll have a company from 3rd LAR to help us take this hill right here, near this bridge. Scouts have passed along shallow places where we can cross on both sides. Knight 6 wants us taking the northern flank of the attack while 2nd Platoon takes the south."

She traced the path they intended to take, pointing out where the MPC-25s and MPC-ATs would position themselves.

"One platoon of anti-tank vehicles will position themselves in the woods here so they can ambush anything that we can't get a shot at. After that, they intend to reposition themselves in the creek bed. They'll be supported by MPC-25s while another moves with us to provide extra protection against infantry."

"What are we facing, El-Tee?" Sergeant Raymond Hughes asked.

"According to what 3rd Recon and the local SDF Scouts told us, they've got a company of paratroopers with IFVs holding the town. They're supported by two companies of ZTD-05s and a battery of towed howitzers. Fast air is gonna try and knock out those guns before we roll in to help reduce casualties. Recon has also determined that there are no minefields in this area; no spaces that are open enough to make one. Our goal is to hopefully find and destroy those ZTDs…The major issue is that the Veruseans have dispersed a lot of stuff since they seized the town. We believe they're trying to see what we'll do so they can counteract. That's why we're pressing the attack; Colonel Wilkins wants us to draw em out as soon as we can so we can bring the hammer down on them. He's promised us air support, fixed-wing and rotary."

"Search and destroy." Benedict commented with a grin.

"Yep, search and destroy. That's the name of the game today: search and destroy." The Lieutenant breathed out. She looked back towards their tanks and stood up a little.

"Okay we're due to get moving in…about half an hour. Get your crews together, make sure they eat and use the head before then. You all have your radio calls and frequencies…good luck, guys." She said, sighing at the end.

The other tank commanders nodded and went their separate ways, taking their equipment with them. Only Benedict stayed behind for a minute.

"We'll kick em real good, El-Tee. Boys are good...just don't let em know I said that." He said with the ghost of a smirk.

The Lieutenant smirked and nodded, heading over to her tank. She grabbed a handful of snow and tossed it onto Izzy, who quickly scrambled to life as his face was met by the impromptu snowball. James and Martinas stirred and looked up at their commanding officer as she started to ascend the tank in a low crouch.

"Mount up, people; we have our orders." She said in a low, firm tone.

The younger Marines reluctantly exited their sleeping bags and rolled them up best they could into their duffels. James holstered his USP and grabbed one of the Mk.18s before he hurried up atop the hull. Bettz had settled into her coupla to man her fifty while the others secured their bags to the bustle rack along the back of the turret.

"If you need to eat or make a head call, do it now." Bettz advised over her shoulder.

James used his left hand to ease open a camouflage cooler filled with sodas and rummaged around until he eased out a bottle of Gatorade. He stuffed it in his pocket; most of the MREs were stashed inside the turret. When properly relieved, James handed off the carbine to the tank's loader and crawled up the back of the turret, then down into the safety of the tank via the loader's hatch. Like a kid on a jungle gym, he twisted and crawled until he was down in his seat forward of the Lieutenant. His combat helmet went below him on the floor and was replaced by his CVC helmet. Even inside the behemoth, the cold had managed to seep through into its confines. He reached down and pulled up his canteen to take a quick pull. He didn't feel hungry, but his mouth and throat felt painfully dry. Martinas scrambled past him and through a hatch at the bottom of the turret into his seat before Izzy joined the rest of the crew.

"Alright, button it up...Loader, what do we have in the main gun?" Bettz ordered.

"AMP, El-Tee." Izzy said as he worked the breech lever to check.

"Gunner?"

"Main gun is selected and ready, coax is also ready. Fire circuit boards are good to go."

"They fuckin better be, Brad. I spent too much time making sure of that."

"Yeah yeah it's working fine; don't go bitching."

"Cut the chatter...okay Driver, crank it up."

The tank's electrical systems were powered down while the engine was brought to life to avoid overloading things and causing a short. The tank's turbine engine shattered the morning calm with an unsettling cry before that gave way to the normal, steady noise of the turbine. The noise from the four tanks melted into one collective hum, greatly muted by the tankers' earmuffs. The tanks systems came back to life when it was safe, and James leaned forward to peer through his sight. The world outside was bathed in the green lens of his optics' night vision. He leaned back and glided a finger along the array of switches and knobs to make sure they were all still adjusted how he wanted them while their commander checked in with the other tanks.

"...Knight 2 Actual this is Knight 3 Actual, radio check." Bettz remarked expectantly.

"Reading you loud and clear, Knight 3." Clinger replied.

"Misfit 6, Misfit 6 radio check."

"Misfit 6 radio check, standing by at Phase Line Skunk and Phase Line Badger...awaiting go from Brawler 6."

"Roger that, Knights 2 and 3 are still waiting at Phase Line Aardvark…"

 _God, I know I don't talk to you as much as my brother, Saki Mark or Ekaterina do but please don't take my guardian angel from me now_ James thought as he waited. His appetite had left him part way through his MRE. He glanced towards Izzy, who was waiting near the tanks ammo storage. Their gazes met but the two said nothing. A silent acknowledgment of sorts passed from one man to the other, though. Bettz's voice refocused her crew's attention.

"Phase Line Fox...Understood Brawler 6...Okay Driver, get us going; road-march speed." She ordered.

"Gotcha El-Tee." Jose replied.

James held on as the M1 lurched forward into a smooth, careful advance. He set his forehead against the tank's night sight and drew in a breath. Small trees gave way under the tank's power and weight as they exited their positions and moved towards open ground.

"All Knight 3 victors all Knight 3 victors, maintain wedge formation, eyes on a swivel. Turn your Trophies on just before we clear the woods." Bettz instructed.

James kept the turret straight while Benedict's tank traversed its turret to the right. The woods ended abruptly as they reached an onramp bending to the right. The platoon followed the bend in the road and fanned out onto the left side of the road. Cover was growing scarce; the MPC-ATs stayed behind the heavier M1s while the MPC-25s took the flanks and rear. The bridge they sought was low and went over a wide but equally unthreatening stream.

"All Knight 3 victors, advance to medium speed...call out any contacts."

On his CO's orders, Martinas gave the tank gas while James started traversing the turret to keep the gun aimed towards the tank's forward quadrant. The ground was surprisingly untouched; it reminded James of the showdown scene from a western. His throat dried almost instantly as he strained to find any signs of the Veruseans and their light tanks. He'd raise the gun to look up the hill and then down its near slope. Then, almost as if teleported to its position, he saw shapes moving down the hill, shaking the scattered trees around them. His voice cracked as he barked out the sighting.

"Gunner...Gunner identify! Tank, 2000 meters!" He called. The platoon's other gunners spotted their own targets as a company's worth of ZTDs moved down the slope.

"Fire! All Knight 3 victors engage at will...call your targets!" Bettz ordered impatiently.

"On the way!"

The gun's breech slammed back as the round was sent flying towards the smaller vehicle. Martinas jinked the machine as the Veruseans fired back. James moved the gun off the now burning ZTD and searched for the one who'd shot at them while Izzy loaded another AMP. He slammed the breech shut with a resounding "AMP up!" as a shroud blossomed across the hillside from the light tanks' smoke grenades. Bettz and Clinger had their platoons respond in kind.

"Knight 2 Actual, Knight 3 Actual this is Misfit 6...Misfit 4 is moving into position now...multiple enemy footmobiles following enemy armor. Misfits 1 and 2 will suppress." A guttural, Ozarks kind of drawl radioed.

"Understood Misfit 6, relay to Misfit 4 to watch their fire."

James identified and blasted another ZTD as it came out of the smoke and flinched as another shot was met by the tank's Trophy protection system. Bits of metal harmlessly bounced off the turret and tumbled onto the ground. The hull dipped as the tank went down into the creek bed and across the frigid water. The hill had quickly gotten torn up as 25 and 120 millimeter guns worked it over. Dozens of human-sized signatures dotted the incline, some moving and others looking like discarded dolls on the bedroom floor of a child. As he swung the turret back to the right, several fresh ZTDs appeared from the woods directly across from the tank.

"Commander identify! Tank, our eleven! 2700 meters!" Bettz called. She hit the turret override to put the gun on target as one of its shells went wide of the M1.

"On the way!" James called,

The turret of the Verusean tank burst back from the explosion that covered the top of its hull. The anti-tank MPCs leapt on the others with their TOW launchers from what those in charge were gathering, the Veruseans were trying to halt the Osean advance in the open. Despite their initial failure to effectively damage the more heavily armored main battle tanks, the whistle of artillery joined the battle in a redoubled effort to hold the enemy attack just past the creek.

"Incoming, incoming artillery. Knight 6 and Misfit 6 we have incoming artillery." Clinger reported.

"Roger that...Maintain advance. Maintain advance, Knight 3. I'll see if I can get you some air support." Stuart replied. He came on the airwaves only seconds later.

"Knight 2, Knight 3…relay from Brawler 6. You now have orders to proceed around that hill to your northeast and take up positions there. SDF reinforcements are on the way to secure the crossing. Repeat…proceed to Phase Line Kodiak. Repeat, advance to Phase Line Kodiak."

Bettz ordered her tanks towards the road and the trees their last kills had come from. Their supporting MPCs had split into two forces, with one holding the bridge and tending to their wounded. Three MPC-25s were alight, destroyed by heavy weapons. There were no more ZTDs to be seen at the moment as the artillery started to subside.

"Gunner, switch to coax and search for footmobiles…Knight 6 you have any idea what's up the road from our current position?" Bettz asked. There was a second while Company headquarters checked the feed from their RQ-11.

"We have eyes on multiple footmobiles coming from IFVs…at least another company of ZTDs moving into position to cover the road."

 _Another company?_ the Lieutenant thought with a frown.

"Can you confirm they're ZTDs, Six?"

"Yes Knight 3, can confirm…okay standby we're about to have a couple of Hornets make a run on those tanks."

The Captain sounded equally annoyed that their intel had been wrong. The two platoons of M1s slowed their advance and fanned out while a pair of F/A-18F Super Hornets were called in to drop bombs on the Verusean positions. James switched back to the main gun just in case and waited. Over the engine, he couldn't hear anything as the two Marine fighter-bombers screamed in low and fast, each dropping four unguided Mk.82 bombs. He saw fire erupt over the edge of the hill as they advanced towards a valley leading towards one of the major rivers in the country. Phase Line Kodiak was just short of the bank.

"Knight 2, Knight 3, Blade 2 reports good hits but maintain caution. Those uh, IFVs might still be in working order." Stuart reported. Bettz and Clinger were going back and forth with coordination that would've made a trapeze act jealous.

"Roger that 6…okay Knight 2 Actual we'll take the left flank and sweep just along the right side of the impacts."

"Okay, roger that 3 Actual."

James slewed the turret to the left as they came around the hill. The Trophy system caught a Verusean anti-tank missile coming through the oil smoke and fire. He switched back to the coax and searched the scene for a target. He saw a tall shadow appear in the distance, only for it to be engaged by another tank in the platoon. James switched back to the main gun in frustration.

"Gunner identify, multiple individuals at our eleven and twelve!" He called.

"Okay roger, TC will engage with the fifty!"

The burning hulks of several ZTDs hid the advancing platoons of Verusean paratroopers and their transports James slewed the turret again as bright tracers erupted from the haze and centered his sights on a ZBD-03 infantry fighting vehicle.

"Gunner identify! PC, our one!" He barked.

"Fire!"

"On the way!"

The ZBD's underside rose as the machine took the AMP round and threw flame back into the woods. Jose turned the tank to the right and grazed the edge of the gathering while Bettz scanned for more targets. Radio transmissions suggested that the Veruseans were now retreating to the north towards the city. The two platoons of tanks swung more and more to the right, spreading out as they approached the riverbank. Across, just at the edge of one's vision, they could see another town amongst the trees. Tendrils of smoke curved upwards into the sky. Movement across the waterway drew Bettz's attention.

"TC identify! PC, ten o'clock!" Bettz barked.

James leveled the gun at a shape near a cluster of farm buildings; more ZBDs moving from cover amongst the structures. He led one of the closer ones as it tried to damage the M1 with its 30mm cannon.

"On the way!" James sounded.

As the IFVs moved out into the open, further fire came from the farm itself. The Trophy system took out two ATGMs in rapid sequence while James tried to get eyes on another target. His shot ended up going far of another ZBD before someone else claimed the kill.

"Gunner, put an AMP round into that one-story structure at our eleven! Follow my tracers!" His commander radioed.

"Loader, AMP!" James echoed.

Izzy hauled one of the multipurpose rounds from storage and rammed it into the breech, hot sweat covering every inch of his face. As he roared "AMP up!", James spotted the building as another missile streaked from it and triggered the main gun. A mix of snow, dirt and metal burst from the side, cascading away from the rest of the target. Two more rounds slammed into the sources of fire.

"Knight 6, Knight 2 we're taking lots of fire from that farm, how copy?" Clinger radioed.

"Roger that Knight 2, standby...Okay Tiger 3 is gonna make a run. Specify which farm, how copy?"

"Farm across the river! 2400 Meters, my ten! Standby for grid ref!"

"Roger standing by."

The two platoons of tanks sat there, deploying smoke and waiting for their support. Izzy still had around a dozen AMP rounds to give; the Sabot rounds were grossly overpowered and the STAFF were too few in number and too precious to waste on buildings. James simply watched, occasionally using the coaxial M240 to response to enemy shooting died down, and then effectively stopped when two explosions, air-dropped bombs from Marine F-35s, rocked the farm. James drew his head back from the gunsight for the first time since they'd started moving.

"Okay...okay Knight 6, enemy positions have been suppressed." Clinger reported.

"Knight 3 concurs; enemy position suppressed." Bettz added.

"Knight 6 copies all...hold position until further notice."


	16. Chp 15: The Battle of 72-West

_Chp. 15: The Battle of 72-West_

 _February 20, 2024_

 _Altaria Bay, Osea_

Misaki and Ekaterina both stared out of the balcony door of the former's apartment. A sparse fog had rolled in and the beach was slowly becoming visible from their point of view. Ekaterina clutched a pillow, hiding the lower half of her face behind it. Misaki stared out the door, arms crossed under her chest. Her adamant refusal to have anything to do with the FRG on base meant that she and Ekaterina were, for the most part, taking on the challenge of having loved ones deployed in combat alone. The few in the squadron's ranks that shared her view had expressed their solidarity, but several still went to the "gossip club" nonetheless. Commander McGavin's wife, representative for VF-138's spouses, was a nice but nosy woman whose relationship with her husband seemed outwardly superficial. It didn't seem to affect the man in charge of the Red Ronin. Misaki shook her head and did away with such questions.

"Ack, I'm becoming one of them." She groaned.

"One of who?" Ekaterina asked.

"You know."

"The FRG?"

"The same."

"I think this time we can be especially grateful for our choice to avoid attending."

"Blech, I can agree. It's only a matter of time before someone reveals someone having an affair."

" Careful Kat, before we undergo zee transformaaaaation and become like zem...oooooh~"

The two burst into laughter at Saki's comedic rendition of Doctor Victor Frankenstein. They were going through another Valentine's Day without their lovers. There had always been some holiday they'd miss while at sea. Even if the cruise had gone as originally planned prior to the events just before New Year's the two still wouldn't have been home for the day. Both pilots had made sure their ladies had recieved gifts and written confessions of their love. That didn't make it any more comforting though. Misaki looked towards a partly organized pile of papers from her class as the laughter faded. Eric's gift, a book on romantic traditions throughout the world.

"Very few people ordered anything from the bakery this Valentine's. It seems baked goods are going out of style as a way of showing affection." Ekaterina commented, more pensively than out of sadness. Misaki looked over at her friend.

"When he comes home, I want to bake Marky something. Something he really loves and has been denied since he had to leave. Maybe a pie...Emmerian Silk or maybe cherry...or apple. A bonafide country boy like him certainly adheres to the love of apple pie."

"That does sound good, especially considering how cold it is over there. A nice hot slice of pie...Eric always insists on having it with ice cream even in the dead of winter. And yet he hates the cold."

Kat giggled away, almost uncontrollably.

"Oh come now, let the poor boy enjoy his ice cream." She insisted as she finally burst into full-on laughter.

"Then let Mark go play out in the snow." Misaki replied as the contagious laughter started to infect her.

"No, I shall let him enjoy donuts on occasion but I will not allow him to catch a cold!"

The two roared with laughter over the quirks of their men, temporarily distracted from the events across the sea. The war had forcefully grabbed Osea's attention, though it still seemed to be distant and hard to connect to. Only those directly affected, like Misaki and Ekaterina, really had it in their minds. Debates raged over if Osea should be involved, but they were few and far between. It was hard to get away with opposing the war and not being reminded that Verusa had fired the first shots. Protesting when dead bodies had been solemnly carried home since the first day was far from popular. Misaki looked towards the TV, then Ekaterina. The blonde sighed and nodded, as if giving her permission. Misaki turned it to the news, just to see if anything had happened. They joined just as a report was underway as a serious-faced man in a business suit with graying brown hair talked away.

"...released a statement confirming that major combat formations were enroute from Osea, but declined to give specifics for security reasons. In statements released by Verusean state media outlets, the government of Verusa has claimed to have driven at least 40 miles into Songola and captured the major cities of Byungjun and Guyang-Do. No comment has been received from either Osean or Songol sources. In the Shimoji Islands, There appears to be chaos across the country's rural areas as reports of commando attacks by Verusean forces have tied down many Self-Defense Force units. By comparison the Songolian military declared that such attacks had been largely contained by the third day, owing the accomplishment of its own internal security forces…"

The islands were still chaotic. Misaki still had family in the country, family she cared about. She knew her grandmother, as stubborn as anything, wouldn't leave the house she'd lived in since she'd been a young woman. She would more likely stand on her doorstep and yell at whichever army was rolling by to quiet down and stay off of her property. Misaki's heart went out to Granny Hiromitsu and her ways. Eric would get a kick out of her if she ever met him; Misaki could hear the questions now: What draws you to my favorite granddaughter? Can you provide for her? How many children to you plan to bless her with? She would look him over and comment about everything from his face to his hair to the way he smelt. With luck, her father hadn't managed to taint her views on Eric before they met. Then again, her mom's side of the family generally considered her father to be a snob and a selfish man.

The anchor's voice became narration to images of the fighting in the islands. Misaki couldn't recognize the cityscape they were showing, but it still turned her stomach to see the modern buildings damaged or ablaze. She looked at Ekaterina, who'd slowly curled up into a ball atop her seat. Misaki abruptly changed the channel, to which her friend had no objections. The images of the situation in the islands disappeared from view…

* * *

Eric watched the basket swaying from behind the F-35 carefully as his F-21's refueling probe drew ever closer to it. The two pieces inched slowly together, and as the distance closer the sweat forming on Eric's brow increased. The sweet, sweet release of contact allowed him to slump back in his seat and sigh. On his control panel, a green light came on and his fuel gauges went up.

"Shogun 208 has a green light, Texaco." He reported.

"Roger that 208, green light." His fellow pilot replied.

Eric hung behind the Lightning for little more than two minutes before he got his share and pulled away. DJ, his wingman for the day's flight, stayed close to him after he'd topped off from a second F-35. They rejoined six other F-21s and waited until the F-35s and SQ-46s they were watching over could push forward. Maritime SDF P-1s had clashed with Verusean Jiangdo-class corvettes earlier in the morning, and additional skirmishes soon after with Verusean aircraft suggested that another thrust towards Kotoko was imminent. This time likely by sea, possibly even as the prelude to an attempt to land forces up north. CVW-9 would be backing up a small force of Shimoji ships, aircraft and two Osean submarines to counter.

"Coliseum Lead this is Throne...come in, Coliseum Lead." Their assigned E-2 radioed.

"Go for Coliseum." Deputy CAG Troy Green radioed.

"Coliseum, you're cleared to press to IP. Pair of P-1s, Blackfish 6 and 7, just got hits at the very edge of their radar. Probably surface contacts...Heading 215, 350 miles. Blackfish reports at least four radar returns."

"Roger that Throne. Coliseum and Mako Flights, follow me. Shogun 3, proceed on course to CAP stations."

"Gotcha Coliseum. Shoguns, break into pairs and proceed on heading 260 to CAP...Throne, Shogun requesting picture." Fast Eddie replied.

"Two bandits just outside radar range; Throne is shifting station to identify, standby…"

While the Hawkeye pushed further west, the eight F-21s split into fourships, then pairs. Besides DJ, Eric had Mark and Chris while Bruh, Blank and Stickler were with Fast Eddie. The Hawkeye then gave them the situation. There were two Y-8Q patrol planes screening ahead and six J-10s covering them alongside twice as many J-7G Fishcans. The appearance of the MiG-21's close relative (and Verusa's most numerous combat aircraft) did little to surprise Eric, but he felt a bit unnerved by the odds. _Just like the friggin Veruseans to apply human wave to air warfare_ He thought with a growl.

"Blackfish 7 confirms...looks to be eight ships total. Two Renhais, three Jiangkai IIs and three Jiangdaos. Shogun, multiple bandits at Heading 215, Angels 23, 290 Miles." The Hawkeye relayed. Eight F-21s against eighteen J-series jets; Fast Eddie was quick to address the odds.

"Throne this is Shogun Lead, any chance you can vector some extra help our way?" He asked in the voice of a proud warrior humbled.

"Workin on it Shogun, hang in there. Stick close to friendly ships."

"Well beggars can't be choosers." Eric remarked to himself as he started selecting one of the J-10s.

Eric signalled for Deejay to fall into loose deuce and reluctantly turned away from the bandits. Steaming towards their opposite numbers were two seperate groups headed by the destroyers _Chokai_ and _Kirishima_. As the fighters swung back around, the shrouds of white smoke burst into existence as the first shots of the battle were fired. Eric caught a glimpse of the action, but his attention remained focused on the incoming bandits. The J-7s were pressing the attack, while the J-10s stayed back to cover the fleet. He let go of the centerline before he hastily switched to one of the incoming Fishcans, and then another.

"Deejay I've got those guys at our eleven, take their friends on the left. Use MTT, try and get two." He breathed.

"Gotcha Saber...permission to break after I shoot?" His friend replied.

"Granted, but don't go to far."

Instead of a quip, Deejay simply clicked his mike twice and threw Eric a thumbs up. The blonde distractedly returned it before his aircraft could get a solid bead on his two targets. Eric sat back in his seat and leveled his gaze towards the J-7s, now around 85 miles away as the two parties closed in at close to Mach 2. He let the radar lock, and fired as soon as he had a chance, before the Fishcans could get too far apart from each other.

"Shogun 208, Fox 3 Fox 3." He announced.

"Shogun 207, Fox 3 Fox 3...breaking!" Deejay echoed.

Eric snapped to the left and singled out the lead J-7 as it nosed up and then went to the right. He came back and pushed his throttles into afterburner. His own breathing filled his ears as he strained to check back on the second AMRAAM as it went further and further into the cloudy sky. He looked back at his foremost concern as the Fishcan was coming back to engage him from his two o'clock. For a few seconds, the enemy aircraft's radar painted him, then the signal dropped. A growing blotch of orange and black told Eric all he needed to know. Two more J-7s were turning to engage him as Mark and Chris drove into a gaggle of them to the west. Eric looked back towards his wingman to find that they'd pulled a real grand slam, with one of the J-7s turning tail towards the safety of more advanced weapons platforms.

"Shogun 3-6, join back on me...Shogun 3-7, 3-8 we're coming your way. Gonna help box those two groups in." He radioed.

"Roger that Five, will check fire to the east." Mark drawled.

The two F-21s made a long pull to the right, maintaining a loose pair as they came around to help box in the J-7s. To the south, radars from the J-10s searched constantly for the Oseans, trying to latch onto them wherever they could find the chance.

"Coliseum has launched all Bruisers...moving to back up Shogun." DCAG announced.

Just in time, too; the J-10s were committing and The Hawkeye reported another eight bandits, Four J-11s and another quad of J-7s, were coming to join the fight. Eric and his flight let the nearest group of F-35s roar in to take the J-7s while they turned to face the bigger threat. Eric again let Deejay go to do his own thing so the Veruseans wouldn't catch them all bunched up. Eric started targeting the nearest Firebrands for his last two AMRAAMs when his radio crackled.

"Take it down so we can get a clear shot here, Five." Mark snapped.

Without word the he nosed down and below Mark and Chris, not particularly enthusiastic about getting shot in the back by his fellow aviators. He gave the two a wide field of fire while they held steady long enough to get a lock on the incoming Firebrands. Mark kept his pinkie ready to switch to Sidewinders as soon as his third AMRAAM was off. The digit eagerly rubbed against the paddle switch in front of his stick. That itch would get a scratch soon; Mark let loose his missile as soon as one of the Veruseans had fired one of theirs.

"Shogun 205, Fox 3." He half-hooted; the fire in his gut was burning now.

As soon as the missile was off and his Sidewinders were selected, Mark snapped to the right, then the left. Chris's jet flashed by as its pilot was pressing inverted towards the ocean. Mark deployed chaff and went the same direction as his wingman. As he became more aware of the situation, it occurred to him that the Verusean had actually fired two PL-12s his way. He couldn't see them, but instinct told him to just keep maneuvering and trailing chaff.

"Proklyatie podraza teli...mat...chertovski!" He swore, cursing the Veruseans and their propensity for copying everyone else's weapons.

By the time he'd evaded them, he was nearly on top of his target. The J-10 was maneuvering and pumping countermeasures galore and his AMRAAM was losing the scent. Mark hurried into an upright position and slewed his nose to try and get back on the bandit. His plane told him that two friendlies, probably Eric (he recognized Eric's yellow helmet with it's black lightning bolts) and Deejay, were coming in the opposite direction. The Fishcans that'd come to reinforce were splitting up to defend the Firebrand.

"Tex, Saber's gonna try and draw one of em for me...get the other; make sure he doesn't get on my tail." Deejay radioed.

"Gotcha Deejay; execute when ready." Mark replied as he selected his Sidewinders.

Eric barreled into the nearby gaggle of J-7s, who scattered like startled fish. One of the bandits, who'd gone high and right, rolled back to the left and dove after Eric as he ran off, with Deejay going over the other J-7s and down into a pursuit position. Mark spotted a second J-7 at his eleven o'clock in the middle of trying to come back right and join the fight. Mark started tracking him right off the bat, then watched as the jet went into its dive, now in order to defend against the Osean fighter. Beneath, the long, imperfect lines from the exchange of missiles had almost formed a new cloud layer. Mark slowed his descent best he could until his missile had a proper lock.

"Shogun 205, Fox 2." He groaned against the Gs.

Mark immediately started nosing up and slowing his descent into the fight below. A "slapshot" was good enough for him this time; he wasn't going down into the line of fire. He pulled up a few dozen feet above a Shimoji-built SSM-1 and hung a left after it as it raced southwards. He kicked off some chaff as Verusean radars were lighting up all over him and ascended in full military power. He banked to the left, searching for Eric and Deejay among the clouds.

"Saber, Deejay Ah've lost sight of y'all." He reported.

"We're bringing it...right...heading north, towards MSDF…" Eric replied between breaths.

Mark acknowledged and whipped his F-21 north, going high and craning his neck in search of his fellow pilots. As he gazed down at the world beneath his jet, he saw a flash. It was hard to tell, but down below one of the Shimoji ships had been hit. Part of _Chokai's_ forward superstructure was covered in a sudden and violent blanket of flames and smoke, only for that to be covered by a second explosion that ripped into its rear hangar area. Mark got a better view of the aftermath as he swung towards his friends. The rest of the J-7s that Eric had scattered were now trying to flee the other F-21s. As Mark announced his arrival, Eric glanced back, then looked forward again as the two fighters split. The _Chokai_ came into full view as they dove to the right and down. AWACS was trying to figure out what was going on, but before Eric could get an idea his RWR told him one of the Firebrands still up was approaching from his three low. Mark broke to defend his friend against the J-10, forcing it to break towards him. Mark looked back as the aircraft had fired a PL-12, which harmlessly flew into the distance.

With the other bandit locked down, Eric was free to be all over the enemy Fishcan. Eric felt a bit honored to be one of several generations of Osean fighter pilot to beat up on the long-running MiG-21 family. The little jet was nimble, but severely handicapped in the modern era. Eric stayed behind the machine, letting it pop off flares (he suspected it lacked chaff) while his next AIM-9 zeroed in on the best heat source.

"Shogun 208, Fox 2!" He declared.

Eric pulled away, leaving the Sidewinder to chase down and destroy the Fishcan. He scanned the skies in cooperation with his radar, searching for another target to pursue. Below it was apparent that _Chokai_ wasn't the only ship that'd been hit. The Verusean surface attack was faltering, but they weren't in full retreat just yet.

"All aircraft be advised, Blackfish has gotten a subsurface contact. Mako, stand by for data link." The E-2 declared. Four MQ-47C drones, configured for sub hunting, turned towards the action proper. Their crews were back aboard the Wellington, in special compartments set up for flying the drones.

"Mako copies all...We have an idea of what kind of boats Blackfish found?"

"Standby...two Sui-class boats!"

"Mako, Shogun, stay behind us when you make your run-ins so we can best cover you, okay?" Fast Eddie spoke up.

"Mako copies Shogun...ah, we're gonna make our runs from Heading 040...will adjust if needed."

"Roger that Mako."

Eric hailed those in his fourship to press towards Verusean aircraft still in the area. A number of Fishcans, likely short on fuel, were heading back towards the safety of their home skies. Eric checked his fuel, remaining weapons and searched the skies for the nearest bandit. He spotted a pair of J-10s in position to cover the retreating J-7s. Eric turned to the southwest, his three squadron mates falling into a wall formation, and pressed towards the two Firebrands. One of them slaved its radar to the blonde's Thunderhawk.

"Break, break. 3-5 is spiked!" He called.

Eric dove down and deployed chaff as at least one PL-12 was off after him. He snapped right and then came left while Chris passed by above him. Eric sped his jet up more and more, aiming to get inside the missile's path as it arced towards him. The jet that had fired it kept its nose on him until they were coming in head-on at each other. Eric, his Sidewinders still selected, held his breath and waited. The two jets charged in like it was a medieval jousting match or a teenagers' game of chicken. Eric smashed down the launch button and sent a missile screaming at the Verusean fighter.

"Shogun 208, Fox 2!" He barked.

A snarl passed his lips as Eric threw his plane to the left and left behind a gaggle of flares for the PL-9 he expected the J-10 to sling at him. Over his right shoulder, he saw the J-10 break off after firing, going away before coming back towards Eric. He strained to look back even further and saw that the PL-9 was arcing up, but lagging behind him. It came close but raced onwards past him. By stark contrast, he saw the J-10 vanish from the sky. He again checked his fuel, and began a slow bank towards the destroyed Firebrand.

The renewed dogfight forced the MQ-47s to make their approaches low and fast. Their pilots had long-activated their Magnetic Anomaly Detectors (MAD) to help them detect the submarines. The mathematical game of anti-submarine warfare made the personnel of VS-48, the Sea Hunters, the nerds of CVW-9. They took pride in it; the hunt for one of the deadliest weapons in naval warfare. The submarines naturally disturbed a few fields as they moved through the water, one of them magnetic fields. Signals bouncing off of sonarbuoys were processed at mind-numbing speed and fed to guidance systems. Each aircraft carried two Mk.54 torpedoes for the job.

"Mako 2-2, Mako 2-1 has a contact at two o'clock. Metallic, looks like one of our guys. Check your fire. Second contact, one o'clock...looks like a Sui." The lead pilot reported.

"Roger that Lead...okay I've got the other Osean sub." Mako 2-2's pilot replied.

"One Mk.54 each on the first contact."

"Gotcha Lead."

The Pegasus drones would be nearly invisible until they opened their internal bay doors to release their torpedoes. Invisible on radar, but not visually. The two boomerang-shaped machines swooped low above the waves, practically silent. They adjusted their course as the Verusean submarine maneuvered against its enemies beneath the waves with it. Eight miles out, the lead pilot gave the order. The two planes dropped a long, blunt-nosed torpedo and banked up and away to the left. The weapons struck down into the waters of the Sea of Shimoji, and their presence became known to the Sui-class submarine. The Sui-class _Niaoling_ , already dueling with the Oured-class Bana City, was becoming increasingly trapped in the midst of a school of torpedoes. The drones circled in wait, pilots growing weary of an errant bandit heading their way. Finally, the MAD and sonar told them that something had exploded down there. A diluted blotch of diesel fuel rising to the surface told them they'd sent the sub to the bottom. The MQ-47s turned back to the east while their subsurface friends pressed on the other enemy boat.

"All aircraft this is Throne...remaining hostile surface contacts are turning south. Do not pursue. I repeat, do not pursue. Bravo Zulu."


	17. Chp 16: Tactical Landscapers Inc

_Chp. 16: Tactical Landscapers Inc._

 _February 22, 2024_

 _Northeast of Fusamone_

Sergeant Drake Lockland poked his head above the top of the stone stairs and lowered it back down just as quickly. He glanced behind him, up the road, towards the top of the hill where Irohana Castle held the highest point in the city of its namesake. The place had new military value, as a vantage point from which to direct fire on the Veruseans as they steadily surrounded the city. Lockland and the rest of Baker Company were in a very precarious position: they were positioned near what was likely going to be one of the focal points of the fight for the city. While its height meant it attracted a lot of attention, the ability to look down upon the majority of Irohana had distinct advantages. The Veruseans had been pounding the northern part of the city with artillery and aircraft all day and night it seemed.

Lockland and the rest of the company had been placed in a semi-circle across the south slope of the rise to hold off any Verusean attempts to flank their position. The neighborhoods beneath the castle loosely ringed around the hillside like outer walls. If they had to retreat, or more when they had to retreat, they would go southeast towards the local soccer stadium for their extraction. Charlie Company would cover their approach. Lockland peeked up again, then lowered himself. They could expect an attack anytime, likely from mechanized forces. Lockland and his unit were in the 502nd Infantry Regiment, a unit of the famous 101st Airborne Division. They weren't equipped to take armored forces head-on, at least not for long. Lockland wasn't bothered by it; he was here and reality was reality. He was just feeling too damn jumpy waiting for contact. Despite the cold and the fresh snow, sweat pooled atop his head of jet-back hair.

"Sarge." His Radio Telephone Operator, Corporal Lipton, whispered. The Sergeant accepted the radio's telephone piece and put it to his ear.

"Go for Nomad 3-1 Actual." He transmitted.

"Nomad 3-1 Actual this is Nomad 3 Actual, Kodiak 19 has spotted multiple hostile footmobiles moving towards your left flank. Estimate is platoon strength with support. Additional relay from Kodiak 09 shows hostile force moving towards Nomad 3-2's position." Second Lieutenant Bradley Gaines, 3rd Platoon's commander, explained in a calm tone.

"Nomad 3-1 copies all...is 3-2 aware?"

"That's affirm 3-1. Good luck, out."

Lockland glanced down the stairs towards one of his fireteams, then raised his M8A1 and peered in that direction through the weapon's telescopic sight. His left flank consisted of a small park, some kind of community center, and a small cluster of one-story shops. The place was a ghost town, save for the Osean soldiers, seemingly frozen in time. Lockland eased his left hand back and keyed the radio he carried on him.

"Nomad Arrow this is Nomad 3-1 Actual...relay from Nomad 3: multiple footmobiles spotted approaching our left flank. Do you have eyes on, Arrow?" He asked.

"Standby Actual…" one of his Designated Marksmen replied.

"Roger."

With what little time he had, Lockland shifted attention towards the left flank and moved down the stairs so he'd have a better view.

"Nomad 3-1 Actual this is 3-1 Arrow." The DM radioed in a soft voice.

"Go for Actual." Lockland replied.

"Actual I count at least two-dozen footmobiles moving on our position from the park."

"Understood, standby to engage."

Lockland's team had a limited field of view for the park and moving in the late-morning air wasn't going to be easy. Still, he pushed one of his teams along a narrow alley between the backs of houses while the other was moved down to the next major street. He looked up as a roar came from his right. He looked up in time to see two thin-bodied aircraft race overhead. Seconds later, a growling explosion rose into the air in the vicinity of the castle. Another explosion forced him onto the ground as two more Verusean jets pulled away from their attack. The cloud of eviscerated wood and stone was joined by a fine, white mist; smoke grenades. Lockland shook his head as he rose, brushed off the snow that'd fallen on him, and keyed his radio. As he did, his DM reported contact, and his squad duly opened fire as the Verusean advance through the park began. The Sergeant tracked a shadow with his M8 and pulled back the trigger three times, knocking the Verusean down on the second shot. Lipton hurried to Lockland's side as the Sergeant crouched down to take cover.

"Ice, send a contact report to the El-Tee and request CAS. If not CAS, try and get word through to 4th Platoon's mortars." He ordered. The man nodded in understanding and started trying to contact their superiors up near the castle.

Irohana Castle had been hit by four FT-series guided bombs dropped by JH-7s, and Lieutenant Gaines's position had inadvertently been hit when one of the towers near the platoon's command had fallen. Gaines was fine, for the most part. As he reorganized his his surviving command staff, his own RTO was busy building a clearer picture for the man. Requests for air support were coming in from every squad, so the young paratrooper passed things on to a pair of JTACs (Joint Terminal Attack Controller) detached from the company. The two Master Sergeants were dividing their time between coordinating with their superiors and observing the video feed from an RQ-20 Puma orbiting the fight.

"Nomad 6, Nomad 6 this is Kodiak 19...requesting CAS. Friendly troops in contact, coordinates to follow." One radioed. The company HQ passed the request up the line to Stardust, an E-8C J-STARS orbiting over the Pacific east of the country.

"Roger that Nomad, standby…Bossman this is Stardust. Got another CAS request; what've yah got on call?"

"Roger that Stardust...uh, I've got two flights able to assist. Want em both?"

"Yeah go ahead and gimme both."

"Roger, standby…"

25 Miles Northeast of Irohana was where those planes were orbiting in pairs. Eric headed a flight of four Thunderhawks, while four Lightnings from VFA-149 circled off to the right. He still hated ground attack, but CAS was the exception. It was vital to the guys on the ground, and the sight of a friendly jet raining death upon the enemy gave them encouragement. He was eager to do his part. This was the first time he'd be flying CAS in a contested airspace. To defend himself, he had a pair of Sidewinders and there was the usual CAP.

"Shogun 1 and Coliseum 4, standby for tasking. Contact Kodiak 19 on datalinked freq." Their AWACS radioed.

"Coliseum 4 copies all, Bossman." The lead F-35 replied.

"Shogun 1 copies all, Bossman...uh, what kind of picture we looking at?" Eric added.

"Be heads up for bandits engaged with Viper 3 and Roller 2 at 310...38 Miles. Sporadic bandits coming in from multiple western vectors, likely enemy strikers. Traffic's heavy; be heads up."

The picture was tits up; Eric would be going into a state of madness and he felt like he was alone. Friend or foe didn't matter; everyone was trying to do their job all while not getting into someone else's business. Eric checked his fuel and his digital map, then his weapons load before the E-3 passed along their JTAC and where to go. He ordered Mark to loosen up and for his numbers three and four, DeeJay and Blank, to put some space between the two pairs of fighters. They were going to stay east of the city and make their runs in pairs. As soon as their weapons were off, they'd regroup away from the heat and hit again if needed. Eric programed a navigational point for them to reference and datalinked it, and then made sure his oxygen mask was secure before he keyed up his radio.

"Kodiak 19, Kodiak 19 this is Shogun 1 checking in. Flight of four T-Hawks...two GBU-12s, two JAGMs, 530 rounds apiece. We've got about 20 minutes of playtime, so whaddya got for us?" He said slowly.

"We've got Verusean troops supported by light armor...UAV feed confirms em as ZBLs...Gonna need you to make your runs southeast to northwest, how copy?" the JTAC replied in a more urgent voice. These guys needed support and fast; he ditched his centerline tank and ordered the rest of the flight to do the same.

"...Shogun copies all, want us to take the ZBLs first?"

"Roger, standby for laze. Watch for friendlies near the IR strobe."

The F-21s rose to 19,000 Feet and went straight in. Eric selected his JAGMs for the job and set his flares to deploy in three second intervals when he toggled the countermeasures to automatic.

"Okay Two, I want you to come in right after I'm off, how copy?" He instructed.

"Gotcha Lead." Mark assured.

"Alright Kodiak 19 Shogun 1-1 is in hot."

"Kodiak copies all."

Eric broke to the right and made a tight spiral down to 9,000 Feet. His missile picked up the laser beam that'd bounced off the target. As soon as he was at the city limits he set his countermeasures to automatic and pressed on where he'd been told the fight was. He slaved his own targeting pod's camera to it and found the target was obscured by the cityscape. He couldn't see anything; Eric nosed up and then rolled over so he wouldn't have to make a second run, but by then he was almost right down on top of the fight. He yanked up and roared over the fight, attracting an errant shot from a shoulder-launched HN-16. Eric stayed fast and kept his turn tight until the weapon was falling away, distracted by flares and overwhelmed by the sudden maneuver. He was safe and ready to try again, but he had to resist the urge to throw a punch into one of his instrument panels.

"Lead is off! Two, come in high or break off! Shit's cluttered down there!" He said over the radio, audibly trying not to get any angrier than he already was.

"Shogun did you get a weapons release?" Kodiak insisted.

"Negative, negative yer gonna have to walk us in better." Mark replied.

"Roger, okay roger!"

"Two is in, Two is in...coming in high."

Eric nosed up and kept ascending while Mark roared in, coming in from a more southeasterly heading, and slaved his own targeting pod to the JTAC's laze. He could see four ZBLs slowly advancing up through the park and along the road to its north. His target was a ZBL on the road. Mark nosed down slightly and pressed the weapons release button.

"Shogun 205, Rifle." He reported.

Eric craned his neck and watched where the JAGM went. He descended and rejoined Mark as they egressed from the fight to let DeeJay and Blank come in.

"Good hits good hits on that one, Shogun. Splash one ZBL. Standby for next target...can you try and nail the two in the park? Make your runs on Heading...020, how copy?" Kodiak reported.

"Kodiak 19 this is Shogun 1-3, roger that. Okay...Three's in hot." DeeJay radioed.

Eric watched as more HN-16s swatted at the incoming planes, coupled with wild shots by small arms, maybe even one or more of the remaining ZBLs.

"Kodiak talk to us, what's the situation down there?" He spoke up. The JTAC sounded, for the first time since he'd called for them, relieved.

"Ahh ZBLs appear to be breaking contact, and friendly footmobiles have hostile footmobiles locked down. Good hits, lots of secondaries."

"Roger, you want anything else on em?"

"Standby...okay roger Shogun...I need you to drop an apartment building. Got lots of fire coming from there...looks like another platoon of ZBLs nearby. Got enough playtime for that?"

"Gotcha, we'll hit the building first...okay guys I want another shot at this so Lead's taking this one."

Eric didn't hear them, but he knew they were chuckling. _Yeah yeah Saber's eager to drop ordinance_ he thought. Eric selected his two Paveways and broke away from Mark in a steep climb, again so he could get a clear shot. The target the JTAC had requested be hit was a ten-story apartment building with tracers and RPGs coming from it. There were a few black pock marks dotting its outer facade. Eric lazed the target with his own pod and eased his nose down, setting his countermeasures to automatic again. Tracers appeared to his right, an Eric turned his head to see a PGZ-95 AA gun chattering away at him. He released his two GBUs and pulled up before the guns could get a bead on him.

"Shogun 208, bombs away!" He declared.

The thermal image from the camera spun wildly as it strained to keep sight of the building and keep the laser pointed at it. Two small shapes passed into the camera's field of view for a second before the smashed into the building. The explosive force of the two bombs blew the outside of the building away, leaving the rest to sink down a bit, then start to collapse.

"Good hits! Good hits, Shogun!" Kodiak hooted.

"Roger that Kodiak. Shogun 1-1 to flight, can anyone see that 95 that tried to light me up?" Eric replied.

"Roger, looks like he's just south of the highway...be advised Ah've got eyes on more vehicles moving towards Kodiak 19's position...to yer northwest, it looks like. Got at least four MBTs down there." Mark reported.

"Okay, alright everyone still got at least ten minutes of playtime?"

"Two, roger."

"Three roger."

"Four roger."

Eric switched frequencies back to the AWACS.

"Okay...Bossman this is Shogun 1, we have eyes on a major column of Verusean armor northwest of Kodiak 19. We're gonna need some help on this one; is Coliseum available?"

"Negative Shogun, Coliseum is not available at this time...we've got a flight of Apaches and four F-2s, callsigns Mustang and Lotus, on call."

That was even better. Eric informed the AWACS that they'd clear away the PGZs first, then the Apaches could take over and go to town. They'd use their JAGMs' millimeter-wave radars (MMR) to make it quick. After that, those who still had them would drop their Paveways on selected targets near the front to slow the column.

"Okay those PGZs are moving along the streets parallel to the main column, north and south. Ah count six total." Mark relayed, talking as fast as he could.

"Alright we'll have to do our best. Go in pairs; Deejay, you and Blank come from the north and we'll come from the south." Eric responded.

Eric switched the JAGM's dual-mode seeker to MMR and used his RWR to make sure he had one of the AA guns selected. As Deejay and Blank went in hot, Eric yanked his plane to the left and circed around.

"Shogun 206, Rifle." DeeJay confirmed. The castle was coming back into view for Eric

"Shogun 209 Rifle," Blank added. He pushed the throttles forward and descended.

Much like an air-to-air missile, the JAGM was fed info from its launch platform. Even with the city clutter below, the device saw the AA gun as if it were sitting on a featureless plain. Eric noted his fellow pilots had pulled off and were circling high and fast in anticipation of their bomb runs. Eric mashed down the weapons release button and gave a resounding "Rifle" call. The missile separated from the plane and darted forward. At first it flew straight and level, but as it approached the PGZ, it turned down in an increasingly steep dive until it was going almost straight downwards. It struck the top of the machine and caused it to burst like a water balloon.

"Alright good hits. Two, Three and Four make your next runs along the highway...Lead will provide BDA." Eric ordered.

The initial strikes had slowed the column. Upon closer inspection, Eric noted the appearance of the lead tanks and recognized them as ZTZ-96s. The shapes of F-21s going at high speed rushed over, followed by the sudden impacts of their bombs. Eric, glad to no longer be orbiting directly over the fight, pulled left and descended to join the rest of the flight in a loose V-formation.

"Kodiak 19 this is Shogun 1, we're running short on playtime so we're gonna go ahead and get outta here. Got a quad of Apaches, callsign Mustang, enroute to mop up. Good luck." The blonde radioed.

"Thanks for all the help Shogun; many are indeed grateful for your work today. Kodiak 19 out."...

* * *

The rare moments of peace had taken on new value as _James Wellington's_ crew and air wing took the war day by day. The gentle roar of the ocean grew and waned as the Hubert-class carrier cruised the waters east of the islands. The brine turned into stark white foam as it crawled a short ways of the curve of the ship's bow before falling back into place. A large V-shape marked her trail for a short time before dissipating back into a calmer state. Everyone was either focused on the present, or their head was far, far away. The occasional seaspray floating in through the doorways from the hangar deck to the aircraft elevators, forcing many inside to hunch down and shiver as they toiled away on aircraft and machinery. Eric sprinted every time he was near the openings, slowing back to a normal pace when he was out of the line of fire. Every genre of music drifted (or punched) through the hangar deck. Fast-paced punk rock, The Ramones at the moment, coming from headphones around his neck helped Eric keep his pace.

The smell of the ocean air washed away the occasional tang of fuel and hydraulic fluid. And to top it off, the image of a slim, shapely and bikini-clad Misaki walking across the sand. Her long, raven hair glistened from a fresh swim and her white ensemble only served to highlight her beauty. Green eyes turned towards him and gazed back longingly from behind her glasses. Eric's face felt warm and his body fuzzy, only to have reality burst back in as he stumbled over an aircraft tie-down. The pilot's arms stretched out as he half-hobbled to a stop and looked back at the impression, one of many, in the deck. He looked around to see if anyone had caught his little accident, but no one seemed to have cared. Everyone was too busy working or doing some form of PT. He hurried onwards, quickly getting back on pace for his run. He looked down every few seconds just to make sure he didn't screw up again. It felt good to run despite the chilly air; meteorology predicted the next bit of snow would come in about four days and sweep over the northern part of the islands. It was a good barrier to have...not that the Veruseans had really tried to attack the fleet again.

Other than scant observations about the war and a desire to be reunited with his girlfriend, Eric's thoughts were unfocused. Or rather, they were purposefully unfocused to avoid diving deep into things that were beyond his control. He slowed as an F-21 from the Six Shooters was transferred to one of the elevators and watched it go, moving to the side as other runners hurried by. Eric waited until the elevator was completely up, then walked to the edge and stared out at the ocean. He had to wonder what his dad might've had to share on this. Ryan Bradford had fought in one of the last major wars of the century and survived laser weapons, nukes and an air force that had carried itself as the best, as the creators of aerial warfare. He'd served faithfully to the end. The adage that after surviving your first ten missions was hampered by his dad's last flight. Sure your chances of survival would go up but if a three-time ace with over twenty years of service could get whacked then who was really safe?

Eric shook his head; his old man wouldn't want him thinking like that. Hell, he could hear the good Admiral Cody Walker giving one of his rousing speeches on what being a fighter pilot was. That put a smile on his face and he could hear the fiery oration from the elderly gentleman. _People who say that fighter pilots don't respect their enemy are fulla shit, boys! I respected the hell outta the Yukes and the Belks! And when they didn't respect me Ah made em, by golly! I friggin made em!_ Eric smiled and chuckled at the words and took off again. The thought reminded him of the truth in that. He felt respect for the VPAF's pilots, even if they were commies. In an odd sense, he held them in the same regard the pilots he'd meet at Red Flags and Global Enforcer exercises. Even if they were stuck-up, aristocratic assholes like the Luftwaffe Typhoon driver he'd sent into a fit over the results of a mock dogfight. Eric threw his head back and laughed at the thought. Memories of one of the best exercises of his life eagerly came to mind as he continued with his run.


	18. Chp 17: The Dragon's Fist

_Chp. 17: The Dragon's Fist_

 _February 24, 2024_

 _North of Nasamaru_

James had been scared of the dark as a kid, a bit longer than your average person. He didn't like it because he never felt like he could hide in it; like all else could see him but he couldn't see anything else. Now he felt like a master of it; the tables had been turned. The imaginary beasts and evils lurking in the corners and closet of his bedroom as a kid, the ones Eric told him weren't real, now had him to fear. The real threats, right now the Veruseans, also had him to fear. The M1 sat in anticipation of the next move down the freeway with the aim of crossing the river. The world outside was still, devoid of almost all life. The farm and town to the northwest had yet to produce anything more than enemy soldiers observing them. Insignificant to the tanks; if anyone fired at them it was a sniper team with 3rd LAR.

The sound of a jet engine, then multiple jet engines, caught his attention. He tensed and leaned back to wake the Lieutenant as the roar grew louder. The tank had been camouflaged more over the past few days by adding branches and other local foliage, but all that was useless against low-light devices, and if the Veruseans were just going to blanket the place like they had then there was no use hiding at all.

"Everyone up, come on get up and get ready to start the track."

Lieutenant Bettz's voice broke his internal musings just before James saw two shapes flash across the very top edge. The tank rumbled to life after that and he was without his thermals until the power came back on. He tuned his ears to listen to Bettz while she got the rest of the platoon rallied and checked to see what was going on. Four J-16 fighter-bombers had roared into the valley low and fast with full loads and were met by two batteries of MPC-ADs placed along a ridge two miles back. No one had reported any bombs dropped on their positions. There were at least two more flights out there, but none seemed to be coming for Charlie Company and its friends. What was bound for them came in the form of a whistle.

"Incoming!" Bettz shouted, reaching up to make sure her hatch was closed tight. Izzy did the same as the first round impacted somewhere off to the left.

James grimaced and mechanically put his eye back to the sight as the tank's systems fully returned to life. On command he armed the gun, loaded with a Sabot, while Bettz searched the terrain with her CITV.

"Knight 6, Knight 6 this is Knight 3 Actual. We've got incoming artillery, how copy?" She reported.

"Roger that Knight 3, whole line's reporting the stuff…Appears to be falling on our old positions. Standby and maintain radio contact." Stuart instructed.

"Understood Knight 6…Knight 3 Actual to all Knight 3 Victors, check in once you're cranked up and keep an eye on your sectors."

Bettz had her tanks placed among a small group of evergreens and rocks with each tank's turret aimed in a different way to provide a full view of the lands before them. In order to get the most out of their locally-acquired camouflage, the tanks moved as little as they could. James felt the want to break that rule, but held himself back. He strained to find any sign of movement, a reason to take aim and fire so he could start looking around.

"Knight 6 to all Knight Victors, standby for relay from Misfit 3." Stuart warned. The explosion of a round a few hundred yards to the front temporarily drowned out what the reconnaissance platoon's commander was trying to say.

"...has observed enemy force moving down the highway towards our position. I repeat, one of our MAVs has eyes on enemy forces moving in strength down the highway. Looks to be at least battalion strength, likely more."

"Misfit this is Knight 2 Actual, can you patch us into your MAV's feed? How far out are these guys?" Clinger asked.

"Roger standby. Be advised that forward elements will make contact in about six minutes"

James could see the thermal signatures of vehicles moving through the trees to the right of the highway. Scouts, he imagined. The RQ-11 the LAR guys had deployed told Bettz the full story. Two companies of ZTZ-99 main battle tanks were moving along either side of the road, with two PGZ-07 self-propelled anti-aircraft guns right behind them. Behind that, a much larger force of ZBD-04 infantry fighting vehicles was being escorted by another two companies of ZTZs and at least two batteries of PGZs. _No more paratroopers with light tanks_ She reckoned to herself. So much for bottling up the heavy stuff around Fusamone, too.

"El-Tee, I've got eyes on at least one platoon of PCs moving through the trees at our twelve." He reported as the artillery fire slackened. Bettz slewed her viewer towards the treeline.

"I see em...Knight 6 this is Knight 3 Actual, I have eyes on possible scouting force. Standby for grid ref."

"Send it 3 and we'll see what we can do."

Two minutes later, several explosions erupted on the Verusean side of the line. A pair of dark-blue Mitsubishi F-2 fighters roared a few hundred feet above, banking hard right and tossing several unguided bombs towards the trees where the scout vehicles had been seen A second pair came roaring in from the northeast, braving SAM launches as they slipped out of the fight towards safety.

"All Knight Victors standby to copy new orders...all Knight Victors are ordered to hold the line until Bravo 6 and Whiskey 6 can withdraw following their engagement of enemy forces. Knights will then withdraw by platoon when ordered, how copy?" Stuart explained.

Bravo and Weapons Companies, 1st Battalion, 10th Marine Regiment had set up along the slope to meet attacks by the Veruseans with the expectation that it would still be paratroopers and light armor. The change in threat meant they could hold for a short time, but were still vulnerable out in the plains and hills of the countryside. The first Verusean tanks appeared slowly from a slight bend in the highway and immediately began to spread out as they gained more room to maneuver. James activated the laser rangefinder to get a distance reading on the lead tanks. They were just under 4,000 Meters away; the effective range of the Sabot rounds they carried was 500 meters short of that.

"All Knight 3 Victors, engage lead tanks on my command. Fire two rounds, then move forward to alternate positions, how copy?" Bettz radioed; she switched to her tanks intercom after she got three affirmative replies.

"Gunner, track that lead tank...yeah him. Standby to engage on my mark." She added.

"Gotcha El-Tee!" James barked.

He could've sworn that the tank he was tracking was looking right back at him. Words, lyrics, gently escaped his lips as he lined up on the first equal adversary he'd kill. He slowly traversed the turret to keep his crosshairs on the guy, then ranged him again. Seconds from effective range. Bettz was doing the same from her station. The Veruseans were moving in a disciplined formation, employing smoke dropped by their artillery. They were searching for targets, probably using the pings from the Oseans' rangefinders. Already James didn't like what they were bringing to the table; the sense of technological superiority he'd felt was slipping. It was held up only by the fact that the Abrams could counter them.

"Fire!" Bettz roared.

"On the way!" James replied.

The first shots of battle roared across the snowy expanse with a thunder that always got James's fire burning. Izzy heaved a second Sabot from the magazine and shoved it in with a deep cry of "Up!" as he slammed a fresh shot into the gun's breech. James identified a second tank and fired. As soon as the shot was out, Martinas sent the tank forward into the open with a lurch as the Veruseans moved to better return fire and avoid the shots from the tanks now emerging from the trees.

"Knight 1 and 2 will engage everything left of the road." Lieutenant Brett Travers radioed."

"Roger we've got the right side." Bettz replied.

"Gunner identify, Tank at our one! 2900 Meters! Load Sabot!" James called.

"Sabot up!" Izzy assured.

"Fire!" Bettz ordered.

"On the way!"

The ZTZ swung its turret towards them and fired as the round impacted. The crew of Gajin Kaiju felt their track shake as the round went far of them by a few hundred feet.

"Bravo 6 and Whiskey 6, make some room and prepare to move back under Knight's cover, how copy?" Stuart ordered.

"Bravo 6 copies all!"

"Whiskey 6 copies all, Bravo 6 move first we're gonna try and get some Javelin rounds out to support Knight, how copy?"

"Bravo 6 copies all...Misfit 6 this is Bravo 6, is your mortar platoon able to lay down some smoke for us?"

"Roger that Bravo 6, give us some coordinates!"

The M1s rolled to a halt a hundred feet behind the infantry's positions and fired another round of sabots. Within seconds smoke rounds from MPC-mounted mortars were arcing down. Alpha Company's tanks swung into action on the left flank to help contain the thrust by the Veruseans. They managed to split the Verusean's main attack, allowing Charlie Company to exploit the wedge the split created. Even then James felt overwhelmed for a second; every inch of his field of view seemed to be filled with hostile IFVs. To make themselves less of a target, Bettz ordered her platoon into their old defilades. The wedge made it as good a time as ever for the vulnerable infantry to retreat while.

"Okay Knight 6, Bravo 6 is about ready to withdraw here...I'm gonna start with positions up by Knight 1, how copy?" The rifle company's CO radioed.

"Roger...Knight 1 do you copy?" Stuart replied breathlessly, juggling almost every aspect of the fight.

"Knight 1 copies all. Bravo stay clear of our tracks in case we gotta retreat."

"Gunner identify, bridgelayer, our eleven! 2500 Meters!" Jmaes called.

Bettz went to her CITV and saw the lumbering shape of a tracked bridgelayer. At the same time, an explosion brightened the left side of her screen. She turned the viewer to see a tank, one of her tanks, ejectings its ammo storage blast doors to direct the explosion from an impact. James took matters into his own hands and hit the front of the bridgelayer with a single shot. The machine lurched to a stop as its escort spread out to defend and counterattack.

"Knight 3-4's hit, 3-4's hit!" Garvin reported, shaken.

"Cover him, Knight 3-3...haul any survivors with you." Bettz ordered, determined to keep order in her platoon.

"Knights 2 and 3 be advised, I've got more support coming your way. Standby to fall back to secondary positions." Stuart added.

"Knight 6 be advised, we've got a track down. We've got a track down."

"Any survivors, Knight 3?"

"Standby...Knight 3-3 anyone getting out?"

"We've got two guys, gunner and Sergeant Garvin."

"Roger that...Knight 6 all survivors retrieved."

"Roger, put a round in her and fall back with the rest of the company."

Veers's tank did the job of putting "Rodan" out to pasture. The rest of Bettz's crew shuddered internally at the thought of being hit and having to bail, but no one said anything. Izzy was shoving Sabot rounds with little pause while James blasted away at tanks. The IFVs were of little concern; the few that'd engaged them got to watch the rounds from the cannons bounce off the tank, and several got an AMP round in return. He felt a spike of tension each time he heard the scream of a near-miss from one of the ZTZs.

"El-Tee, I think we're holding em." James dared reckon.

"Save that shit, Bradford!" She snapped in reply.

On his CO's command, Martinas began backing up the tank. James took the very brief pause to get his head up to speed. The first attacks by Verusean armor had failed and forced the mechanized infantry they were supporting to dismount and close. Whatever ATGMs they were carrying would be almost useless against the tank's Trophy suite. He adjusted his mike and he started searching for a new target.

"Izzy, how're we doing on Sabots?" He asked.

"We've got nine left." Luke assured with a heavy gasp.

"Okay load an AMP."

"AMP up!"

The Abrams fired on the PGZ that'd gotten the Viper and continued back until it was near the top of the hill. Sergeant Hughes and his gunner, Corporal Louis Randall, were handed over to the retreating grunts. Down bellow, the fighting seemed less intense. The Verusean attack shifted its focus towards the left flank, where Alpha Company had beaten back the initial attack. Reports to the east indicated that Bravo Company had spotted a new attack approaching their positions. An AH-1Z "Viper Cobra", followed by another, swept down onto the center axis of attack and fired a single JAGM at another bridgelayer. Its wingman knocked out a pair of ZBDs. The second Viper suddenly vanished in a ball of fire as it was met by a surface-launched missile. A fresh group of ZTZs was rolling in to relieve the ones who'd made initial contact.

"Gunner Identify, tank at 3100 meters! Our ten!' James gasped, suddenly feeling ten years older.

"Fire!" Bettz ordered. She quietly wanted revenge for Knight 3-4's death.

"On the way!"

James watch the sabot cut through the ZTZ's ERA (Explosive Reactive Armor) blocks like thinly-sliced deli meat and, with unusual pleasure, watched flame burst out of the top hatches of the thing. _Meet the end product of years of hard training, combat experience and superior tech you fucking commies_ He thought.

"Gunner identify! PC, 3000 meters at our twelve! Its dismounting infantry. Gunner, load AMP!" The young man added as he spotted four ZBD stopping near a wrecked platoon of tanks.'

"AMP Up!" Izzy roared, as angry as the rest of his crew was.

"TC will engage footmobiles! Fire!" Bettz assured.

"On the way!"

The M2 atop the tank hammered away as Bettz directed fire onto the platoon of infantry carriers trying to establish a firm foothold. Knight 2 pushed forward again to support, followed shortly by Knight 3. The two platoons fired smoke grenades to give them and the last elements of Bravo 6 and Whiskey 6 additional cover. On the far side of the hill, AAVs waited eagerly to get the retreating infantry and get out of harm's way, especially as hostile artillery started to open up again. A ghostly hiss echoed across the sky as the first shots from one of the Veruseans' favorite weapons, rocket artillery, soared down upon the northern slope. A well-known voice came on the airwaves.

"Brawler 6 to all elements, Brawler 6 to all elements; you're ordered to pull back to Phaseline Badger. Repeat, Phaseline Badger. Get outta there!" Lieutenant Colonel Wilkins, 3rd Tanks' head honcho, ordered.

"All Knight elements, pull back to Phaseline Badger by platoon."

Again Jose backed the tank up until they went over the top of the hill, the Veruseans taking shots at them every few seconds. James depressed the main gun to get a shot off in retaliation and spotted an enemy tank just as the Abrams dipped below the ridgeline. He raised the gun up and sat back in his seat with a heavy sigh. Martinas navigated down to the road and positioned himself on the flank of the highway, with the two remaining tanks in 2nd Platoon on the opposite side. Bettz took stock of the platoon's damage and ammo counts. They had few sabot rounds left and the three remaining tanks all had some scuff marks.

"Knight 6 this is Knight 3 Actual, will we be able to get resupplied when we arrive at Phaseline Badger?" Bettz radioed.

"We're working on it Knight 3; enemy fast air hit a few of our convoys." Stuart reported.

Seconds later the remains of Third Platoon came upon the burnt-out hulks of several supply trucks, one of the aforementioned convoys. James felt the desire to throw up; Marines weren't supposed to get beaten back like this. OSEA wasn't supposed to get beaten back like this…

* * *

General Chen and his command staff felt the command vehicle lurch to a stop. The man made sure the helmet he'd been provided was on securely and followed the security element out into the open air. He waited for them to ensure they had tight perimeter security before he marched down the rest of the ramp. His visit to the southern front had been delayed by a day following an air raid on the airport he'd landed at. Chen had been quietly impressed by their aggressiveness, recalling that despite all the fire they would attack low and fast. The myth that the Shomoji people were passive, afraid of reviving the fanatical imperialist spirit from the Great War of 1940-46, had been shattered. Chen recalled seeing graffiti on some of the Shimoji planes as he was hurried to safety. The Oseans and their closest allies loved to do that kind of thing; such a practice was rare in this military.

Despite that, there was still a sense of pride, and it could be felt as he walked down the ramp. Waiting nearby was the commander of the tank battalion who had broken through the Osean defensive line and allowed multiple crossings to be set up across the waterway. With him were the battalion's political officer and Executive Officer. General Chen approached the man and the two exchanged salutes before the senior officer extended a hand. The Colonel was still in his tanker garb, though he'd cleaned up the best he could. His coveralls showed small marks of dirt and dust, but nothing more.

"Lieutenant Colonel Peng, you have done a great service to your country and to your family's prestigious legacy of the same. Thanks to you, we have shown the Oseans that their vaunted Abrams main battle tank is nothing more than a farce! Your men should know that I praise their efforts and sacrifices as well. How is your unit?" Chen asked.

"Our enemy fought hard, sir, but not hard enough. I will not lie that we have seen a hard day of fighting, but the day is ours and we shall recover from our losses." The man replied confidently.

"Do you have an estimate on how many the Imperialists have lost?"

"My men estimate that we have destroyed a great number of their tanks positioned here and several armored vehicles. I have reason to believe that the force we met was placed to gauge our strength; if we gather prisoners we will determine what their intentions are."

Chen looked back towards the highway, down the slope from town, as two heavy-duty trucks carried a pair of incapacitated tanks back towards the beachhead at Fusamone.

"And what of our losses, Lieutenant Colonel?"

The man shifted uncomfortably while the General wasn't looking.

"Acceptable, General. We simply need to reorganize and be resupplied before we can move again." He explained hesitantly. Chen looked back at him.

"You will get your supplies, Colonel. I will have the Brigade's 2nd Battalion take the lead for now. The party would like solid numbers in your report, as would I to ensure I can use your remaining forces most effectively." He explained.

"Yes General."

Chen dismissed them and walked back to the ramp of his transport, stopping to watch a few more vehicles roll by. This phase of the invasion was one of the most crucial. The airborne forces would have to hold out a little while longer, but they would help keep the Shimojis or the Oseans from cementing their hold on the ground separating the central beachhead from the southern one. He turned away from the scene and marched back into the relative safety of his command vehicle. His masters wanted him back in Verusa as soon as he could realistically return. Based on the Colonel's choice of words, he had to imagine that the destruction of those much-vaunted Abrams tanks had come at a discomforting cost.


	19. Chp 18: Proof of Concept

_Chp. 18: Proof of Concept_

 _February 25, 2024_

 _OFS James Wellington (CVN-34)_

The air on the carrier was thick with stubborn pride. News of the Verusean breakout from Fusamone was met with anger; Eric personally wanted to go toss a nuke at the city just to put the invaders in their place. As far as he knew James had survived the turn of events, knowledge passed along by their mother. Everyone was eager to hit back, and after some initial confusion as to why the battlegroup had gone further south they saw the idea that the brass had come up with. The southernmost Verusean forces were aiming to push north and link up with those that had broken out of Fusamone, probably with the intent of squeezing out any Osean and Shimoji forces between them. The southern advance, centered on two mechanized infantry divisions, would have to use the Shimoji Maritime Highway to get to the central island. The technological marvel was to be sacrificed to keep them bottled up down there. Eric thought the idea of a road across the sea was cool, but he had no complaints about dropping it.

"Poetry, Ruiz, pure poetry." He commented as he observed the small plethora of messages on one of his JDAMs.

"Whatever you do sir, please don't bring your JDAMs back. Last thing I need is to catch heat for some of the stuff that's written on there." His Plane Captain replied. Eric stood up, glancing at a message that read "bombtrack hotter than my mixtape, bitch" and another that said "learn from Belka and the Yukes, dumbasses".

"Don't worry, don't worry I'll make sure to hand them off to the proper people." The blonde winked. The enlisted man smiled and nodded before he gave Eric some space so he could walk back around to the cockpit and mount up.

When his F-21 was ready to go, a Plane Director beckoned him across the softly-lit deck towards the waist catapults to meet up with the four Growlers attached to the six-ship flight. With Mark following close behind as his wingman (Eric got to play flight lead today), he was brought forward to the catapult's end and the crew went to work while he extended his wings. He went through the motions with the Catapult Officer, trying to keep his patience. They were doing all they could, he was doing all he could. No one won a war alone. He noticed familiar writing on the back of a float coat and recognized Sharky's black balaclava with shark teeth around the mouth. The man pumped a fist and then held two thumbs up to encourage his friend. Eric mimicked the motions to acknowledge the encouragement.

Thoughts of strategic matters, politics and all that were pulled to the back of his head as the final seconds before launch ticked away. They were then kept there as he was launched into the black sky. On the Hawkeye's command, he turned to the northeast with the rest of the flight and began a short trip to the outer edge of the fleet. The second half of the force was orbiting under the watchful eye of one of the group's destroyers. In the predawn air he could see the long, wide-waisted shapes of four B-1R Lancers Eric banked to the left over the aircraft and keyed his radio.

"Circus, Circus this is Shogun Lead; we've joined up with Viking 1. Just waiting to see if their spares are gonna be tagging along with us." He reported. He let the controller acknowledge before he turned his attention to the lead bomber.

"Viking Lead this is Shogun Lead, we're at your ten high. Three and Four gonna be coming with us?"

"Shogun Lead negative on that. We're doing good...gonna have Three and Four hang back until we hit the IP...Vikings 1-3 and 1-4 hold here until we hit the IP, then go ahead and turn back towards Sand Island."

"Gotcha Lead...good hunting. Bring back some sweet BDA footage for us."

There was a quick round of chuckles before the B-1s split into two pairs, with the lead jet and his number two man following the Navy planes. Eric selected his two HARMs and mentally noted to turn on his jamming pod before they went in. The flight settled into place at 14,000 Feet and pushed far ahead of the bombers. The last radio call was from their CAP of F-22s, who were sweeping along the main island's southern tip towards the target area. Eric deployed his four HARM shooters in loose pairs as the island of Kokinshu appeared at the edge of the horizon. He nosed down and swept over the coast, following the terrain up and then around one of the few pieces of civilization on the clump of land. Mark fell behind him and trailed along as the two came around and locked into their next heading. They hit their Initial Point just after the island.

"Bullhorn, Shogun is at IP. Switching to Storm Surge's control." Eric radioed.

"Roger that, Shogun's switching to Storm Surge."

Eric hopped frequencies to the same one being used by an E-3 near NAS Shiatamii, checked in with the rest of his flight and then asked for a picture from the Sentry.

"Shogun, Storm Surge is showing picture clear at this time. Be advised that Gambler 4 is presently northeast of you, approaching IP."

"Roger that Storm Surge."

"Storm Surge, Viking is at IP...pushing on 330 to holding pattern."

Eric again dipped down, leveling out 700 Feet above the waves, and turned north. At another, much smaller island, Eric gave Mark the signal to drop his centerline tank and turn on his jamming pod.

"Shogun Lead to Three and Four, execute now." He added. Blank and Bruh duly complied.

Eric selected his HARMs and started eyeing his RWR. According to pre-strike intelligence, the ten-mile stretch was covered by two batteries of HQ-16s and a small beachhead to the north had one or two batteries HQ-7Bs covering Shengese moves to secure the far end of the crossing. And that didn't include any guns and shoulder-fired weapons. Almost immediately Eric's jamming got someone's interest.

"Daredevil looks like we've got a bite...standby for datalink." He radioed.

"Roger that Shogun, standby." VAQ-208's commander, "Gucci" Strappe said in his thick November City accent.

Daredevil One pinpointed a Verusean "Fire Dome" acquisition radar near the southern end of the highway, perched on a cliff overlooking the nearby coast. Eric snaked to the left, allowing Mark to move independently of him, and then popped up as the radar started to track him. Eric rolled and went level just long enough to fire a single HARM.

"Shogun 208, Magnum." He reported.

Almost as soon as the weapon was off, a static-like sensation started to bleed onto his RWR and his radar. Almost immediately, the APG-79 started battling with it to keep his picture clear.

"Heads up, looks like they've got at least one radar jammer down there. Tex, hit it if you've got a shot!" The blonde added.

Mark nosed up, sailed to 2,000 feet, and launched his first AGM-88 at the source his lead had spotted. As the first missile shot impacted the Fire Dome, the second fell to one of Blank's HARMs. The jammer, located on the concrete pier of a marina, turned off, only to have the missile threatening it switch to its internal GPS. As Eric came off from his shot and to the left, another radar caught his attention. For a second he expected it to be another Fire Dome, only to find its position was on the water. He circled and then dove as two SAMs came his way. Eric dove and deployed chaff, turning away from the Fire Dome and the HQ-16s it controlled. He then snapped left as the missiles changed course to follow and then went right, hoping to overwhelm their tracking. The alert tone waned, then started up again, then waned again and finally left his ears as they were finally unable to reacquire him. He looked back and saw two streaks of light going ballistic. Where they'd come from was answered before he could ask.

"Agh shit, they've got a Jiangkai II down there. Looks like they're backing up those SAMs ashore. I've got one Front Dome active..." Gucci's Electronic Warfare Officer snarled.

"...Add two Rice Bowls to that...looks like a total of three ships: That Jiangkai and two Jiangdaos."

Eric ordered his fourship to stay clear of the highway and keep low while they figured out how to best deal with the additional HQ-16s. Almost immediately, he decided to see what their AWACS could muster.

"Storm Surge, any chance we can get some backup to deal with those Verusean ships?" He radioed.

"We're working on it Shogun...standy." The Sentry assured in an even tone. Eric clenched his teeth, but quickly accepted the situation. He wasn't too keen on waiting, though, and those B-1s couldn't wait all day.

"Okay anyone got any hot ideas?" He asked, soon somewhat embarrassed that he'd said that. There was a pause before Mark spoke up.

"Shot some HARMs at the Front Dome." He drawled.

"You serious, Tex?" Bruh asked. Shogun 205 made his response quick.

"Sharky and Shamu like to brag about how they once nailed an Emmerian destroyer's radar with an ARM. Worth a shot...we just need to fire several."

"...Alright we'll give it a shot. Daredevil, we're gonna try and engage that Jiangkai's radar. Need you to deal with any remaining jammers or Fire Domes for now." Eric radioed.

"Eh...roger, roger that Shogun. Daredevil's got ya covered. Good luck, guys." Gucci replied, quickly keeping himself from getting distracted. Eric immediately switched gears back to his flight.

"Alright Shoguns listen up: we're gonna make one run each and fire at the same time. Go in low, use the islands for cover when you can, and pull off as soon as you make your Magnum call. Watch for the boat's CIWS amidships."

"Two copies."

"Three."

"Four. Tex if this doesn't work I'm recommending the Goldies for CAG's deck run."

"Y'all and me both, Bruh. Y'all and me both."

The flight split and called the routes they would take in. Eric moved towards the northern end of the highway and went wide of the beachhead the Veruseans had near that before he turned towards the source of the Type 345 fire-control radar. He pulled back on the stick and hit the gas, rocketing upwards. The Jiangkai noted him, then the other F-21s as they moved into position. Eric's plane started warning him that they were trying to break through the jamming and get a lock on him. He ascended for a few seconds more before he leveled out, then nosed down and fired his remaining HARM. As soon as the call left his mouth, he turned hard left and deployed chaff three times as the enemy ship started launching SAMs again. Each jet got two missiles in response to their own shots.

Eric leveled out and started snaking just above the water towards the nearest island. He then broke right and went between two miniscule clumps of land before ascending again. More chaff pumped out from his jet and gave the first missile the slip, while the second was trying to turn and get its nose pointed at him. He dove and hit the gas, causing the missile to make a weak dive, then give up on finding him. He snapped back to the left before he could get too close to any of the missile launchers below.

"Shogun, that Front Dome is off the air. Good job." Gucci reported.

"We hit it? Who hit it?" Bruh inquired.

"Can't tell if we did! It's off; all that matters." Blank spoke up.

"If it's off it's off. Try and nail those HQ-7s before Viking has to bingo outta here! _OFS Valiant_ is currently moving into position to engage. ETA is about three minutes." Storm Surge barked.

Eric swung around and selected his JDAMs to drop on a pair of launchers to the south, ordering the rest of the flight to either hit those or the HQ-7s. Viking, still unsure of if the ships were no longer a threat, was told to come in fast and to dump as many countermeasures as their DSOs (Defensive Systems Officer) could in that timeframe. Vikings 1-1 and 1-2 began a slow turn to the left, then started gaining momentum as they throttled up. With the F-22s keeping any more bandits from trying to sneak in a shot on the Lancers, the two jets leveled out a few thousand feet above the earth and started pumping chaff and flares as soon as their RWRs were doing more than infrequent chirping. Eric positioned himself to watch the bomb run and help cover the two jets. In the distance he could see a thin trail of smoke, probably from whoever had hit the frigate's Front Dome. He turned his head as two dark-gray shapes entered his field of view. By the time they passed anywhere near the bridge, their payloads were already sailing down towards the target.

Each B-1 had 24 BLU-109 bombs inside its three bomb bays. The 2000-pound bombs, guided by GPS, fell in a march pattern across four major sections of the highway. Each went smashed through the concrete and steel that made up the bridge's strength before exploding a few feet below the blacktop. Tracers and short-range SAMs reached up in vain towards the fleeing bombers, but the sheer number of countermeasures crowding the sky made such efforts useless. A few HQ-16s launched blindly, but did little to maneuver against the targets. Eric turned with the B-1s to meet and escort them south towards safety. He looked back at the wrecked sections of the bridge he could see. _Next best thing to nuking you commie fucks_ He thought…

* * *

The destruction of the Maritime Highway had been a small, much-needed breath of respite for the Osean military. The Veruseans' southern flank would remain separated, and the units that had captured Inabari were now stuck on the island. Despite that, the Veruseans still had a great deal of momentum as their central and northern advances were making steady gains. The JCS, Welsh promised, had a plan to capitalize on that small victory and start turning things around. Reyes therefore held his tongue as the man gave him an update on the strategic picture.

"Despite numerous attempts, the air bridge into Kotoko remains open and reinforcements are flying in around the clock and reaching units as soon as can be safely done. It, along with Sasomi and our own bases in the islands are where we have firm air superiority. Verusean attacks have settled down on the facility and the northern port of Shinohara as they try to press for breakouts elsewhere." Welsh explained. He moved his pointer down to the southern part of the main island: Hionoshu.

"As far as the disposition of our forces goes, all of I and III MEF have landed in the islands and are deploying to create another defensive line to further guard the southern flank. They're arranged to hold the major roads heading towards the capital. The elements of III MEF already in theater are falling back to these positions as they conduct delaying actions alongside the remaining SDF forces in the area. On that note, the SDF has committed two of its six armored brigades to Marine operations in that area alongside a piecemeal mechanized division."

"How is the SDF positioned at this time?" Reyes asked.

"Two of their mechanized divisions, supported by two armored brigades, are moving to take positions around Kajime to further keep the Veruseans from linking up. The 1st Airborne is positioned with the 8th Mountain and 101st Airborne to the northeast. The bulk of their units are placed to defend Sasomi or Kokinshu."

"...Casualties so far?"

"I hate to say it like this, but they're acceptable. Several major formations have been chewed up and have been reorganized into provisional brigades and the like. The same goes for aircraft; we've had to take additional care to on where we attack and where we make a stand. The problem is that the Veruseans are keeping their supply lanes across the Sea of Shimoji locked down tight. We may have bottled up their southern landing but they're in firm control of the island of Gianshu. It's only a matter of time before they can strike north. I'll touch back on that in a minute; that's where the plan me and the boys have come up with factors in."

In Songola, the 25th Cavalry had been worn down to a pair of "slightly understrength" brigades and half of its aviation brigade. On the up side, both the 29th Infantry and 5th Infantry Divisions were almost completely assembled and ready to march north to help. The 25th Cavalry would fall back behind their reinforcements to be properly rejuvenated. Songola's considerable reservist force, one of its biggest tools in national defense, was fully in control of rear-echelon duties, allowing the regular army to move forward. The Veruseans had advanced some 80 miles south, moving to split the Osean-Songol lines down the middle and to force the remnants of the Songolian V Corps against the Seong Mountains. The Songolian III Corps, including two of its best armored divisions and the famous 18th Royal Guards Mechanized Regiment, were being positioned to help the 25th, 5th and 29th Divisions form a pincer against the main Verusean advance.

Reyes was about to question when the GOOD news would come, and from there Admiral Snow and General Reese joined the conversation.

"As General Welsh mentioned, we have sporadic air superiority. This is mostly because the Veruseans have safe lanes through which to pass and major bases close enough to keep a steady stream of sorties going." Reese began. Snow nodded.

"We intend to break that and their naval screens. With enough reinforcements in position, we can now make an effort to do just that."

Reyes nodded; whatever they had, he hoped it was good.


	20. Chp 19: End of the Run

_Chp. 19: End of the Run_

 _February 27, 2024_

 _Highway 2, The Shimoji Islands_

"Contact right!"

The MPC at the head of the column started to veer left before flashes of light raced into its side from the trees. The recon vehicle's Trophy system responded before more rockets did the vehicle in. Jose turned their tank right so the frontal armor was facing the threat while Knight 3-2 went the opposite way to cover their left.

"Gunner, coax! Infantry in the trees, two o' clock!" Bettz barked.

"I see em!" James assured as he switched weapons.

James pulled back the trigger and let forth a long burst of 7.62mm from the M240 next to the main gun. Through his thermal sights showed movement in the trees next to a fence as the enemy soldiers tried to reposition. Bettz joined in with the fifty until the short ambush was over. Eight bodies laid on the side of the road in various states of togetherness. An MPC recovery variant and a pair of L-ATVs rushed around the tanks as they deployed along the right side of the highway towards the burning wreck of the convoy's lead.

"Knight 3 Actual to all 3 Victors, report." Bettz radioed.

"Knight 3-2 is up." Veers assured.

"Knight 3-4 is up." Hughes added.

"Okay standby...Misfit 2 Actual this is Knight 3 Actual, need us to form a perimeter around that MPC?" Bettz went on.

"Negative negative Knight 3, keep moving...Misfit 2-2 is a total loss."

"Shit...Roger. Knight 3 copies all, Misfit."

The three tanks turned back down the freeway and took the lead, spreading out into a proper road march once they had room. James sat back in his seat and let out a long, tired sigh. The air inside the tank was thick with the smell of sweat and stale from the hatches never being open for more than minutes. He hadn't seen the outside world through anything other than his sight since they'd started falling back. They'd retreated 18 miles southeast from their positions on the 24th with the Veruseans' advance hot on their tail for the past day and a half.

"Knight this is Lance, we've got you on the BFT...watch your fire near the rise in the highway, how copy?" A voice spoke up over the radio.

"Knight 6 copies all, Lance; don't shoot us either...please." Stuart replied.

"Ha! Don't worry Knight; we won't shoot...this time anyways."

Third Platoon followed the road through an S-shaped bend and found themselves face-to-face with the thin line that Misfit's anti-tank vehicles and the remains of Alpha Company had created at the northern end of the farming community of Haikoka. The locale had been well-scarred by the war as tendrils of smoke rose into the skies. The highway was growing more and more clogged as civilians were still trying to head to safety. Charlie Company was directed to a railroad yard that had been commandeered and turned into a resupply point and a place for small-scale maintenance on vehicles. The yard was to be Charlie Company's final destination for now. They parked near several storehouses, next to some fuel tankers.

"Okay guys, check the tank, make sure she's resupplied and stay put." Bettz ordered as she opened her hatch.

"Yes, mom." The others replied in unison (and sarcasm).

Bettz rolled her eyes and exchanged her CVC helmet for her ECH (Enhanced Combat Helmet) before she descended the dirty and roughed-up tank. The others got out to inspect the outside of the vehicle and let it air out while mechanics and fuel pumpers came forth to replenish the machine and see if she was in okay shape. Gaijin Kaiju had some dings and scratches, but she was okay.

"The biggest things we need are gas and ammo, Sarge." James told the Staff Sergeant in charge of the POGs.

"And some more fucking Coke! Fuckin commies put shrapnel into our backup 12-packs!" Izzy railed, holding up the soaked and frozen remains of a box of the soda.

"The rest of our stuff make it okay?" James replied.

"Yeah yeah cooler's fine. Little dirty...rest of the stuff's just been scratched up or dented."

"Well we don't have any soda...but I think there's a convenience store nearby if you wanna try it." The Staff Sergeant added.

"Worth a shot I guess…" James half-laughed.

He looked back to his tank crew and asked who had money. They gathered what they could alongside a prepaid debit card James carried (an idea he'd gotten from an old Corps tale about recon using phone cards to call in CAS) and got his ECH and sidearm. As he was turning to leave, the sudden whistle of incoming artillery sent him diving for cover against the tank. The entire yard went quiet as everyone braced and waited. The impacts were distant, out where the perimeter was.

"They've been dropping artillery at random all morning. Sometimes they hit, most times they don't. They're messing with us.." The Staff Sergeant explained.

That thought had James making a less-than-casual sprint to a convenience store jammed next to one of the town's main intersections. The highway through town was still crowded with civilians heading for safety; what safety there was left James was uncertain of. As he hurried across the street towards a small bunch of Osean and Shimoji soldiers hanging around the place. There were several gathered near the bathrooms and a short row of payphones. James stopped and looked towards the phones, then went inside. The large store was busy, but the owner seemed to be in heaven as a steady stream of soldiers and marines getting water and extra food alongside whatever medical supplies the could find. The people behind the counter, who seemed to be a couple and their teenaged sons, were wearing the widest grins he'd seen on anyone since the shooting had started. He wasn't sure if he should be happy they were making lots of money, or concerned that they wanted to stay behind to make money. He didn't say anything and instead bought Coke and water and the made his way out to the phones. Most of the people using the phones were forced to leave voicemails...probably due to evacuations of timezones.

"Please be home, Otome…" He mumbled as he walked to the first available booth he could get. He didn't want to leave a voicemail.

The phone rang a few times before someone picked it up and he heard a familiar voice.

"...Hello?" Otome asked cautiously.

"Otome, it's James."  
There was a long pause, which was soon followed by gentle, almost inaudible sniffling.  
"James where are you? I'm scared." She managed.

"I'm okay...I can't tell where I am but I'm okay."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know where I am, exactly...some town."

In the distance, the sound of another sporadic wave of artillery rumbled across town.

"What was that?!" She demanded hysterically.

"Nothing, don't worry abo-"  
"Fuck you I can worry if I wanna!"

James took in a deep breath but stayed close to the wall in case he had to hit the deck.

"Look I don't have long, okay? I just needed to hear your voice and tell you that I'm okay." He insisted. She responded with little more than a whimper and a half-hearted protest.

"Otome, you know I love you baby. I can't stop thinking about how much I love you...how much I really, REALLY love you. You're my girl and I wanna take care of you. I need you to have some faith in me, okay?"

"...I just want you to come home, James."

"I know baby, I know…"

He sighed and stood up straight once more. More artillery caused him to flinch downwards again, then stand up as the shells again impacted far away.

"Look, I'll call you again when I get a chance. I love you Otome."

"I...I love you too, James. Please please please be safe."

"I will."

"Say it!"

"I'll be safe, Otome."

"Thank you…"

James hung up and scooped up his supplies. He ran, hunching down at the sound of a jet rushing over. He didn't bother to see if it was friendly right now. Bettz noted the same sound of jets flying over the city from the direction of friendly lines. It was enough to convince her as they roared off. An ecstatic comment on a nearby radio suggested they were A-10 Warthogs. Even Captain Stuart seemed to give a listen and smile that they had someone coming in to take out the artillery.

"Alright, most of the battalion along with 3rd LAR has gathered in and around this town. We also have two companies of SDF mechanized infantry equipped with Type 89 IFVs and some attached Type 90s and combat engineers. It's ten miles to the nearest friendly positions, so elements of the LAR and one company of mechanized infantry are going to sweep down the highway and clear it for us. Our job will be to hold with the SDF tanks and the other company until they've established contact with the 78th Armored Brigade. CAS will be on station around the clock but don't expect them to slow the Veruseans." He began. His three remaining platoon commanders nodded slowly as their eyes followed his motions towards the map below them.

"We're going to rest and refit as much as we can but we can expect the Veruseans to make a determined attack in the next 24 hours. Latest intel suggests it'll likely be carried out by heliborne infantry with armor coming down the highway and artillery to soften us up. We can expect any airborne assaults to use these fields outside of town to deploy troops. We're gonna stay closer to the city so we can keep plenty of open ground between us and them. The SDF guys have been working on minefields and fighting positions around the clock. I've also been told that fast air will drop some GATOR mines on these areas…"

He looked up at the three Lieutenants.

"Clinger I'm gonna break up your platoon for now so we have three full-strength platoons instead of four understrength. You'll be taking over First Platoon and Knight 2-4 will go to Bettz." Stuart outlined. The two exchanged looks and nodded.

"I'll be in my tank to do what I can to help while the XO stays with Lieutenant Hopper." He added, looking at the final platoon leader present.

"Yes sir." The man nodded.

"Now, when we do retreat, we'll be falling back by platoon. We'll retreat around the east side of town, behind Lieutenant Hopper and Lieutenant McMahon. From there we'll cover the retreat to a line Bravo Company will form south of town. Once the Shimoji rifle company is behind us and Bravo Company we'll break contact and move to link up with the rest of our force who, I hope, by then have made contact with the 78th." He added, making chopping motions from their initial positions to where they would go as they fell back. He stopped and considered the map for a minute, almost as if he needed to tell himself it would work.

"Alright then, that's it. Brief your TCs and get ready to move as soon as the word comes down. Let's show our friends in the Shimoji Self-Defense Force we're just as eager and able to kick the crap out of those commie fucks as they are...Oo-rah, Devil Dogs?"

"Oo-rah." The others replied…

* * *

"Come in." CAG said in response to the knock.

Sharky and Shamu opened the door to the senior man's office and assumed a respectful stance before his desk. Sharky knew the man wasn't fond of them, and he wanted to ease away that feeling. Showing adherence to general disciplines was, he figured, his best bet.

"You requested we speak with you, Captain?" The man asked. CAG nodded and sat back in his chair.

"Yes Mister Sarkar, and I'll get straight to the point. We're about to see if we can't turn things around in our favor and we need all the help we can get. You're being brought onto the air wing staff to help plan what we've got brewing. I need all the creativity I can get and since the both of you have time from the Anean War it means you'll be doing some extracurricular work. I can't say you'll be paid for it, but I would at least hope you understand that you're not being offered it." He explained.

"We're being ordered, sir?"

CAG stood up as he continued to explain.

"Yep, and while I would think you'll both say yes because I want to believe you boys are patriots, despite your resumes, I want to make sure you're both aware of the consequences should you decline." He added; neither replied.

"In short, you refuse and you're in the brig until you and the rest of your advisory team are off this boat. It won't reflect too well on Rosenthal either, and put you all right back in the hot seat you got to occupy after someone in your midst decided that supporting the Stovies was a good idea."

"Sir with all due respect we didn't have a-"  
"Oh yes you did. Don't give me that crap because you both know I'm not someone who'll take it. I'll give you the rest of your tongue lashing later. First wing briefing is in a few minutes so come on."

Sharky and Shamu turned and followed the man out of his office and a short distance to the space the air wing used for meetings and briefings. Several major players were gathered there, including some familiar faces. Commander McGavin and a few of his officers, to include Eric and Mark, were gathered in a cluster of seats near the front. CAG's entry onto the scene prompted a shout of "Officer on deck!" from one of the crowd.

"Okay take a seat everyone we've got a lot to get to." CAG said as he walked to the front and stood in front of a massive whiteboard.

"CINCPAC has passed along new orders for us, and we're being sent north again to help in breaking the grip the Veruseans have on the Sea of Shimoji. Our lords and masters intend to focus the awesome firepower of this country against Verusa itself. Since the start of the war, very little has been done to attack the country's military and industrial assets on its home turf. That's going to change. This little venture will be coined Operation Headache; we, along with the _Harling_ , her carrier group, Kotoko air base and Sand Island will be its core. Lieutenant Commander Richter and Commander Gordon will go into the specifics." He announced.

Eric adjusted in his seat and glanced towards Sharky as the air wing's Intelligence and Operations Officers moved to the front to explain the situation. He could tell the contractor was deep in thought, trying to guess (like everyone else) what the plan was and what the threats were. Leon Gordon, CVW-9's chief intel man, was accompanied by a slideshow of charts and recon photos.

"The Verusean military maintains its control of the sea through ships, aircraft and recently land-based missiles. It is very likely that if they continue to maintain this dominance, they'll use it to allow them to conduct operations against the northern islands and threaten Kotoko. This dominance centers around the air base at Chou-Mai, The port of Guangzhu, and the headquarters of the Verusean Northern Theatre Command." He outlined through the first few slides.

"Since the beginning of the war, Chou-Mai has acted as a major hub for Badger bombers and Y-8s. It is protected by two smaller airbases at Yon-Meng and Lien, both of which house mixed regiments of J-11 and J-8 fighters supported by at least two KJ-2000s. Chou-Mai has additional protection via two batteries of HQ-9C missiles that protect the expected approaches to the base. Yon-Meng and Lien both rely on a combination of radar-directed guns and HQ-12 missiles."

This would be the first time that they'd encounter the aforementioned AWACS. In Eric's experience, at least, they'd tended to stay behind several layers of protection, if they even went beyond the coast. The airbases they called home were nearly identical in their components: two runways, hardened shelters with camouflage, and a small assortment of hardened support facilities surrounded by a perimeter combining their AAA and ground security. Both were in range of the HQ-9 SAMs that protected Chou-Mai. According to Gordon, Guangzhu was also protected by HQ-9s

"...The port of Guangzhu, has seen increased naval activity since February 20th, most of which is centered on amphibious ships and surface combatants. This place also acts as a forward operating base for many of their submarines and rescue craft. Several have come to do replenishment in international waters while a few more are undergoing repairs. The airport has a contingent of J-8s and JH-7s plus a single KJ-500, as you can see in this next image."

It was made clear that attacks on the theater HQ would be done almost exclusively by Tomahawks and AGM-158 JASSMs (Joint Air-to-Surface Standoff Missile) due to how deep into Verusa the place was. Airpower would be used on destroying the military value of the local airbases and the port. In addition, there would be an ongoing effort to hunt down and destroy several CJ-10 sites. Already the basics were in motion, but the next day would be spent putting together the initial strikes, some of which who'd see combinations of Navy and Air Force aircraft. Richter, when he took over, was quick to say that it would take several strikes to do the desired damage. VF-138 and VF-123 were going to be the go-tos for CAP and Iron Hand; the wing's F-35s would be needed to put bombs and other such things on target. When needed, they would also be employed as photo-recon birds.

"We'll grab something to go from the wardroom and get right to planning. I wanna check our weapons stocks in case something happens and we don't get resupplied with enough new stuff." Wall said softly to Eric.

The young man nodded while he kept one ear focused on the rest of the briefing. The carrier group would be moving fast to get into position and would still be on call to help efforts to drive back the Veruseans. The plan was to go into action in 36 hours from now at the most.


	21. Chp 20: Back and Forth

_Chp. 20: Back and Forth_

 _February 28, 2024_

 _Outside Haikoka_

"Gunner identify! Helo, our ten!"

Bettz pressed her eye to the sight for her CITV as the M1's turret whipped to the left and the gun rose. She saw an angular form rise from behind a hill, its stubby wings loaded with death. Bettz gritted her teeth and nearly stumbled over her own words as she gave James the okay to shoot.

"Fire!"

"On the way!"

James couldn't help but grin as the main gun rocked back and sent an M943 STAFF round at the Verusean Z-10 attack helicopter. Guided by a millimeter-wave radar in the nose and assisted by the tank's laser rangefinder, the shell punched right into the rear cockpit area of the aircraft and blew it apart with a force far more violent than more conventional approaches caused. On James's display, set to thermal, a bright white spot represented the explosion. A second helicopter exploded as Knight 3-4 snipped the wingman. _Hunter went and became the hunted._

"Load STAFF!" James barked.

While Izzy did his thing, Bettz switched to the frequency being used by the rest of the battalion and their SDF friends.

"Misfit 2 this is Knight 3, where are those MPC-ADs you detached to us?" She demanded.

"We're sending them forward now, Knight 3...stop taking all the kills!" Another voice replied patiently. Bettz had to chuckle at the last part.

"Haul ass if you want kills, Misfit. Knight 3 out."

"Knight 6 this is Knight 3 Actual...standby for contact report." She called.

"Send it, 3 Actual." Stuart replied as he was in the middle of getting his tank ready to move forward.

"Engaged at least two enemy helos...more incoming, we're letting Misfit's ADs handle em."

"Roger that, we're moving forward to assist."

The Trophy system caught a missile fired by another helicopter and James deployed smoke grenades as Martinas moved the tank from its forward fighting position back towards a line of trees. Parts of the ground began to burst up into the sky as the first artillery rounds of the fight impacted. Unlike the random harassment over the past day, these were obviously falling in coordinated patterns. Fragments peppered the front of Knight 3-1 as it rolled back with the rest of its platoon in tow. To their left, the remains of one of the Type 90 platoons fell back in unison with the Oseans. Their next defensive positions were among the trees and terrain along a shallow depression. The Z-10s yielded to the artillery barrage, which now included two batteries of SR-5 multiple-rocket launchers. For the moment the tankers could do little except stay down and wait for the helicopters to make a move again.

"All Knight Victors, relay from Brawler 6: Looks like the Veruseans have begun their air assault on the town. We've got reports of at least a dozen Hips approaching two possible landing zones. All Victors stay heads up in case they try to flank us." Stuart relayed.

"Gunner identify! Helo, our one!" James spoke up; Bettz changed back to the intercom.

"Fire!"

"On the way!"

James got permission to engage at will while Bettz stayed on the company frequency to coordinate movements and drink in new info. Already fast air was being queued up, apparently, to try and keep the air assault at bay. The Lieutenant couldn't see them, but she mouthed a quiet "thank you" to the air support, whatever good it did. After a few minutes, or what seemed like that long, the battle's tempo seemed to ramp up again. Knight 3-1 defeated at least one more helo-launched missile before James spotted figures moving through the trees towards their initial positions.

"El-Tee, I've got movement in the trees, far side of the field…Range is about 3200 Meters." He reported, quick to clarify exactly what he was seeing.

"Looks like footmobiles, possible ATGM teams among em."

"Roger that, Gunner...what's in the main gun?"

"AMP."

"Set it to airburst."

James reprogramed the warhead while Bettz gave the order to her platoon to engage the incoming infantry with the same round until they were close enough to engage with machine guns. A fresh wave of artillery impacted, now a mix of high explosive and smoke. James forced in a deep breath as he felt the tank shake just a little bit. Verusean infantry in snowsuits moved through the tall grass that went up to the woods, staying low as they moved forward to make use of the fog. James fine-tuned the gun's position, then got a second range reading.

"Commander, infantry in range." He advised.

"Fire! All Knight 3 Victors fire!"

"On the way!"

The only advantage the Veruseans seemed to have right now was sheer numbers. The Hips that had brought them in were now hurrying back towards friendly lines and the Z-10s were being sneaky. Misifit's MPC-ADs had taken a beating after they'd joined the fight, and Captain Stuart had come upon at least one platoon of Type 90s that were down for the count. James spotted the first infantry trying to get close to the tank, probably to hit it with an RPG where Tropy couldn't save them. James reached up quickly and flipped the switch to his M240 before barking "troops in the open, coax!" and hosing away with the machine gun. The Verusean infantry stopped and one of the men, toting a light machine gun, vainly returned fire to try and suppress the tank. James simply hosed him with a quick burst of rounds, then sought out the guy he'd seen lugging an RPG on his back while Martinas moved to give them a better firing position. Meanwhile, the other two tanks in the platoon moved with the two Type 90s to cover the far flank. They stopped the initial advance cold and held it in place; almost immediately the Veruseans seemed to fall back on another approach. It didn't become apparent until the radio came back to life.

"El-Tee, 3-3 just...Knight 3-3's been hit!" Knight 3-4 radioed. Knight 3-3 was Hughes tank, having gotten a new callsign in the reformed platoon.

"How bad?" Bettz demanded.

"Real bad! Don't think anyone got out! Or will get out! Took at least two, maybe three hits all at once!"

"Knight 3-2 has eyes on possible ATGM teams, am engaging at this time...follow my tracers!" Benedict reported.

A reference to the Blue Force Tracker guided Bettz, and by extension James, onto where 3-3's killers were. Another missile popped out of the grass, followed by another. James went back to the main gun and fired another AMP in airburst at the bushes. He deployed smoke and Martinas moved the tank forward. The missile, an HJ-12 Red Arrow, impacted somewhere behind the tank. The radio crackled and came to life.

"Knight 3 and Panther 2 this is Strider 1-1 and 1-2, we're approaching your position from behind to assist. Watch your fire and stand by!"

"Roger that Strider!" Panther's commander replied.

Knight 3-2 made a hole for one of the Type 89s that rolled into the outskirts and started thundering away with its 35mm cannon. The vehicle did not deploy any troops; most of them were in the city helping evac civilians or in better fighting positions. A second wave of infantry surged forward through the grass, relying on more HJ-12 teams to keep the enemy vehicles busy. James returned to the coax as the first Verusean soldiers got in range of the weapon. Behind him, Bettz felt her body going to stone as the latest came down the pipe from battalion.

"Knight 6 to all Knight elements, Knight 6 to all Knight elements...the Veruseans are landing more troops to the west to flank us. Report from battalion also indicates that Verusean armor is moving to reinforce...at least regiment strength. Begin withdrawing and prepare to withdraw to our rendezvous with 78th Armored."

"Knight 3 Actual acknowledges all...Panther, Strider we've been given the order to retreat. Pull back and we'll cover you!" Bettz replied, going from person to person flawlessly.

The IFVs pulled back first, with one managing to get to the safety of the town before the other was struck by a Red Arrow. Next, Knight 3's remaining M1s reversed back into the town, sticking to the wider main roads to avoid getting boxed in and avoiding the highway to keep it clear for the panicked stampede of refugees heading away from the battle. The remaining Type 89 covered them, chopping away at the grass with its cannon. The Type 90s fell back into Haikoka a street to the left. The IFV maneuvered back through the tanks and stopped near a house to pick up a handful of SDF troops.

"Knight 3 this is Strider 1-1, we need you to cover us while we move down the street...can you take any personnel aboard your tanks? We don't have enough room." The 89's commander radioed.

"We can spare one...Knight 3-2, pull back and take as many as you can; we'll cover you." Bettz replied. She tapped a foot against James's shoulder.

"Gunner, deploy more smoke! Top's tank is gonna play IFV for a minute!"

James popped another salvo of smoke grenades at nearly the same time as Knight 3-4 did. Benedict's tank took on four SDF soldiers and followed the IFV deeper into town. The artillery and missile fire had slacked off for now; the Veruseans were digging in, probably waiting for the armor that was sure to be moving to relieve them. Martinas skillfully backed the tank down the street with the help of his commander. He weaved past a pair of wrecked MPCs and over a few abandoned cars until they were inside a small tunnel. A pair of AH-1s appeared overhead to cover the tanks, staying low to avoid detection from above. James stared down the street in wait, still fired up and ready to lock horns with whoever came down the corridor.

"Knight 6, Knight 1 is in position and ready." Clinger spoke up.

"Knight 3 is in position and ready, Knight 6." Bettz agreed.

"Knight 4 is also in position and ready." Hopper chimed in.

"Roger, all Knight Victors stand by." Stuart advised.

The hold up was to make sure that the rest of the battalion's remains and its allies were in position and that contact with the 78th had been made. The withdraw was made in companies or, more accurately, in parts of the town. When their time came Knight 3-4 went first, and then Martinas left the road and the broken buildings on both sides of it behind. They picked up the pace and exited town among several other vehicles. Scattered civilian traffic followed along, though much of it was being restricted to one side of the road so the tanks and IFVs could make it through. Stuart had positioned himself, his XO's tank and the Type 90s he was with to cover the road, at least until the final elements of Charlie company passed. According to his BFT, he was down another three tanks. The man sighed and, when it was time, followed the rest of his command. He didn't want to think about how bad the battalion was banged up now.

At the sight of a platoon of Type 10 tanks covering the road, Bettz pushed open her hatch and rose from the turret of her tank. She leaned over and, with plenty of attention to balance and her surroundings, began finagling cans of Coke from their box and into her arms. She dropped back down into the turret and started passing them around.

"Let em thaw first." She advised as she passed the cans to her bewildered marines. James set his aside and dropped down to the back access hatch of Martinas's compartment and keyed his mike.

"Martinas, I've got a Coke for ya...I'm gonna open the hatch and pass it along." He said.

"Why are we drinking this stuff, El-Tee? I thought we were supposed to save it for celebrations or something." Izzy objected. Bettz glared at him while she let the can warm in her hands.

"We fuckin survived, Taylor; there's your reason."

"...Yes ma'am."...

* * *

The architecture of Verusean military bases always had a very aged mindset in their design. They always seemed to be very...castle-like, Eric thought. Or at the very least they were intended to withstand attack like a castle was. The air wing was being sent to destroy the base at Yon-Meng, which was the northernmost of the bases. He sat back in his chair as the first of several recon photos of the place came up. The general area was made up of terraced farms along the hills to the southwest and sparse wilderness cut by a small city to the northeast. McGavin drew attention to the farmland.

"One of the Dardevils' Growlers will cover the southwest approach to make the Veruseans think that the attack is coming from that direction, while two of the Lightnings on SEAD duty will hit from the other side. The other two Lightnings and Growler will then come in high and fast from the north, using the first Growler's jamming to mask their moves…"

A semi-circle of racetrack patterns appeared just south of the base.

"...We'll split our force to cover them at these positions after we've knocked out any AEW aircraft they have in the area. Intel seems to be certain that the Veruseans keep their CAPs near the coast, so in all likelihood, we can expect them to have at least several fighters airborne before we arrive. The Growler and Lightnings will only push forward when they're sure we've got the bandits locked down."

Eric recalled the base had both Flankers and Finbacks, a squadron of each at least. He refreshed his mind on the two and their performance while Hack took over for a little while to better illustrate the situation's specifics. He ran a laser pointer's dot along the runways.

"As you can see here, the base's two runways are angled so that they can make the most of the sides of the valley. Because of this their heaviest concentrations of AAA are placed where an attacker would come from to stay low. However, it means that they also have a generally restricted corridor for launching and recovering aircraft. One that we can exploit if we can maintain the planned CAPs in those corridors." The man outlined, or more reminded those gathered.

"I also wanted to point out that there also appear to be a few new emplacements...here, along the shore of the river nearby. They appear to be old Type 74s, with a radar trailer on the shore. Well camouflaged...likely manned by Peoples' Militia troops. These are the only ones I could find, but since they're camo'd up there may be more, so be wary of flak traps…"

"Are they a priority for the SEAD guys?" Fast Eddie politely interrupted.

"Based on what they told me sir, no; the HQs and PGs are their foremost concerns."

"If someone knocks that trailer out, they're gonna be blind...and I don't really expect militia troops to be crack shots." Wall commented.

"Either way, stay aware and don't try anything on them. The Type 74 can effectively engage aircraft up to 13,000 Feet AGL...and I think we're all in agreement that a 37mm shell to the...well taking one anywhere would hurt."

There was a brief silence, and as it marched on DeeJay spoke up.

"Lord help the poor Warrior-Bastard-Gentleman who takes one between the legs."

A brief round of rancorous laughter erupted from the room, to which Eric called "It'd just bounce off for me!"

"Yeah right, Saber!" Chris howled.

"Oh yeah like the Jarhead would have a better chance!" Vixen snorted between wheezes.

"Ah'd have to hope it'd bounce off, lest Kat kill me upon my return." Mark guffawed before McGavin brought the room back under control.

The senior man stepped up to the front to explain where they would rendezvous with their assigned tankers and who their AWACS would be. Instead of the usual E-3 for missions far from the boat, they'd have one of their own E-2s (coined "Maestro") guiding them, positioned offshore with a pair of F-21s from VF-123 protecting it. Another four Six Shooter birds would provide close-in escort for the strikers, leaving six to cover the carrier alongside SDF Eagles.

Such a gathering of firepower made Eric a bit giddy, if not nervous. The effort would be, based on what Eric had seen before the briefing, nothing short of grand. Both the _Wellington_ and the _Harling_ would throw almost everything their battlegroups and air wings had at the region. Every F-35 and F-22 Kotoko had would join the fight, along with F-15EM Strike Eagles brought over from Osea. Two squadrons of bombers, one of them equipped with B-2A Spirits, would be hitting a number of targets. SDF aircraft, mostly F-2s, would carry out diversionary strikes against Verusean ships covering their supply lines. Even four birds from VS-48 were toting some bombs today! All that and the support from tankers and AWACS birds meant the skies were going to be mighty full.

There was also the reality that, this time, they would be flying well into the heart of the proverbial dragon's lair. Flying in when there were still potential snowstorms roaming towards the Pacific. Eric adjusted in his chair and leaned forward, ears and brain still processing what his CO said but his thoughts wondering if he should ask God for awareness, nerves of steel, or just plain and simple luck. Or maybe all three, but despite his humbled feelings he also felt a bit of the war junkie that James liked to tap into mixed into his bloodstream. As the briefing was about to break down into flights, He noted a small smile on McGavin's face, a cheeky one at that. Such an expression was a rarity; the man placed both hands on the sides of his podium and drew in a deep breath.

"Now, before we get down to our part of this hop...In the spirit of DeeJay's desire to keep our morale on the up and up, I'd like to make a, well, a dated and somewhat obscure reference. As the great Edward Fox once said: I'm not saying this will be the easiest party we've ever attended...but I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Chris had something to add, having gotten the reference.

"Well then sir, if we're the cavalry then arriving ahead of schedule would be bad form...so I guess that means we're just in time then, eh?"

"Spoken like a true connoisseur of film, Captain Riley."

The angered feelings that had pervaded the ship when the Veruseans were on a roll were replaced by steely readiness.


	22. Chp 21: The Red River Valley

_Chp. 21: The Red River Valley_

 _March 1, 2024_

 _Guangzhu, Northeastern Verusa_

The First Sergeant monitoring the HQ-9's radar screen seemed more a statue than a human being. He'd been in the air defense artillery branch of the Verusean People's Ground Force for fifteen years, much of it at the Southern DMZ. Despite the war going on, this sector of the Verusean air defenses network saw little in the way of unfriendly action. Much of it was interference from Osean and Shimoji jammer or reconnaissance aircraft; his country had a firm grip on the region and could operate with relative impunity. For now, his foremost concern was trying to beat the electronic noise being used to blind his view of the sky. The sources were too far to effectively engage with the battery's array of weapons. He sneered with annoyance as the interference began to become stronger and looked back at the battery commander, a Captain, to signal he needed orders. The officer leaned forward and examined the situation.

"Sergeant Peng, see if you can contact the AEW aircraft. We may have to use their radar picture to supplement ours." The Captain spoke up. He lowered his voice afterwards and leaned closer to the enlisted man.

"Continue to monitor the jamming's strength, First Sergeant; I'm not keen on giving our imperialist friends an easy target."

"Understood, Captain."

The First Sergeant adjusted his headset and continued to work the controls at his console, looking for a way to "burn" through the jamming. He switched to the passive sensors, hoping that maybe the site could pass along the direction of the enemy aircraft to friendly interceptors, who could close in on the threats and destroy them. As he did, he began to receive information that the sources were closing. Seconds later it became wholly apparent that there was a raid inbound for Guangzhu.

"Captain, we have an enemy strike force heading towards the city...I have at least sixteen returns on the YLC-20. Heading is 85 degrees, range is 190 Kilometers and they appear to be at an altitude of 7300 Meters." He reported.

"Understood, alert all launchers and relay to the other batteries! And request the airport scramble interceptors!" The Captain barked in a calm voice.

Despite the cool interior of the command trailer, the operators could begin to feel a bit suffocated as tension set in. While the only human element in the launch of the missile, the Captain had alerted the missiles' Teleporter-Erector-Launchers (TEL) to ensure that the weapons were properly deployed. The HQ-9 site was placed on the hilly terrain to the southwest of the harbor to give it a commanding view of the area, both visually and electronically. Almost immediately, the command trailer's crew began tracking the source of the jamming. Using information fed via the passive sensors on another trailer, they locked onto the jammers as they drew ever deeper into firing range. Radio traffic indicated that short-range defenses were being alerted to look for aircraft moving at low altitude to avoid detection or attack.

"Airspace is clear of friendly aircraft, Captain." The First Sergeant reported.

"Understood, fire when ready." His commander allowed.

With the push of a button, two launchers placed in an earthen revement nearby discharge a single missile each. Seconds later another pair fired.

"Missiles away successfully…" One of the crew reported.

"They've got a solid track...enemy formation is breaking up...missiles are still tracking." The First Sergeant added.

The battery fired another pair of missiles from a third launch site, then a fourth before the cycle started all over again. The incoming raid deployed chaff, but it was becoming apparent that there was something wrong. The formation had split and was deploying countermeasures, but neither their speed nor altitude had changed significantly. They maneuvered in a simple manner...one that seemed pre-programmed. The first few kills came easy, but at least twice a missile would merge with its target, but miss and detonate behind the supposed aircraft.

"Captain, we may be engaging decoys...I would recommend that we ask our interceptors to get visual confirmation." The First Sergeant advised.

The message was met by confusion among the HQ-9's crew until they received warning that a second formation seemed to be coming from the southeast. Scant radar returns suggested stealth aircraft, and the possibility of decoys was soon forgotten. As the Captain communicated with the nearest battery to hit the raid from multiple directions, the battery's passive sensors picked up a new target. A pop-up contact from over the ocean had fired an anti-radiation missile at the battery's primary search radar, then a second at its fire control radar. The site deactivated both, but in their haste they failed to realize that the Osean AGM-88 had a memory like an elephant. The real attack came moments later in the form of four B-2A Spirits flown all the way from Sand Island. By then the northern end of Verusa's coast was alight with contacts and incoming raids. Bands of "Imperialist Air Cowboys" riding in from the dawn skies to the east.

At the same time, Eric and DeeJay were going feet dry at just under 1000 feet above the ground. The two jets passed a seaside village and followed the river inland towards their assigned CAP station. Vixen and Tex weaved back in forth in a tight pair above and behind them, drawing sporadic, unguided AAA fire. Black puffs from the shell bursts became a part of the sky as militia-manned sites all over the countryside seemed to be shooting at anything that even remotely looked like a fighter jet. It was in line with older Verusean defensive doctrine: mass fires in every kind of way. He screamed pass a road junction and spotted people scattering about the dirt highways, some vainly raising their personal weapons to try and hit him. He looked back twice after that to make sure they were still clear, then looked forward again. The hills rose like misshapen fingers trying to scratch the bottom of his F-21, then dropped away as the land dropped down into a massive valley.

Eric couldn't help but want to admire the scenery. Like the air base they were bound for, it had a rather unique sense of style; they'd passed a riverside port that still used stone banks to keep the waters at bay and relied on walls made of the same material to guard its perimeter. Junks crowded the docks and waters offshore. Now they were fast approaching another village, a collective of house for one of the farms in the area, likely. With DeeJay loosening up on his wing, the two jets headed further to the left away from the river and across the snow-streaked land. As they came back slightly to the right, Eric noted something coming into view. Almost immediately he assumed it to be a bandit; no one was supposed to be coming at them and no one had reported they were breaking formation. He could tell they had single tailfins, too; no friendly aircraft in the area had that setup.

"Shogun 1-6, bandits at our two, break and engage." He ordered.

"Six." DeeJay replied.

The two F-21s ditched their centerline tanks and broke away, grabbing for sky to move in. Eric reported the incoming bandits just as they revealed themselves as four. The lead two fired, hurling heatseeking missiles at them. Eric deployed flares and drew the missile towards him before snapping hard to the left. The weapon had been launched in a "slap-shot" manner, meaning it had, at best, a foggy idea of where the Thunderhawk was. As soon as he was free of the threat, Eric switched to his AIM-9s and closed. His fighter roared through the bandits as they scattered, revealing themselves to be J-8 Finbacks. Eric activated his radar in case he needed to employ his AMRAAMs. The two Thunderhawks bracketed the interceptors while they were still close.

"Bandits have split...four total...1-3, 1-4 what's your position?" He added as he mentally selected one of the interceptors to tangle with.

"We're coming down now." Vixen reported.

The Finback Eric had set his sights on was pulling away from him, giving Eric a nearly-perfect opportunity to latch onto the jet's tail. He kept left until his nose was almost directly on the J-8; his first Sidewinder was already narrowing down its target's location. The Finback nosed up and ascended, leaving behind two flares as it tried to outclimb its pursuer. Eric backed off the throttles and kept his nose's rise steady as the two jets slowed from the climb. Despite the allure of an easy kill, he was on guard. The very last thing he wanted to do in his 28 years of life was bail out over Verusa. As the J-8 began to lean to the right, he closed to cut the jet off and force him back to the left, away from the deeper lands of its home. The Finback went through an awkward-looking high yo-yo.

Eric went to the outside of the Finback's move and switched to his gun. He made a single pass angled at the J-8's predicted path, letting off a three-second burst as they crossed paths. The Finback's gray and blue camouflage was broken by the sparks and punctures in the aircraft's skin. Eric tilted his jet back towards the Finback as it turned into him and nosed over into a dive, vainly trying to make a slashing attack at him and put holes in his plane, too. Eric looked over his shoulder as tracers went wide of him; despite the lack of danger he accelerated. The F-21's wings swept back again like an eagle about to dive on its next meal. He came around at the Finback as it snapped into his attack again, staying low and fast. With more room to move, he could easily afford to slow again and work the rudders to get another good gun run in. He drifted towards the Finback, then pulled the trigger of his gun again. He traced a line of bullets across the spin and wing roots of the Finback. As he passed, the jet's path sagged to the right towards the river before the canopy blew away.

The Osean descended into another valley that ran perpendicular to the river. According to his GPS he was almost on a dead course for the air base. There was another contact, a single bandit, coming at him from his eleven o' clock. His partners had split off to engage Vixen and Mark up above. Eric spotted the bandit, a J-11, as it angled down into the valley and fired a PL-9. Eric deployed flares and broke into the attack, switching back to his AIM-9s. The missile after him angled and passed behind him. It'd come close, too close for his liking; he could feel the faintest rattle of the explosion behind him. He got a split-second look at the other jet as they passed but only enough time to watch it pass. He caught a brief glimpse of two rows of black X marks below the canopy. He could imagine that the Verusean pilot could see his kill marks, too. Almost immediately he slowed and hauled his plane into a 180 against the Flanker. The Flanker pilot put his plane's agility to work and yanked it up and out of the valley, afterburners glowing like the morning sun. It seemed to hop back into the sky before it slowed and banked towards Eric.

The two went head-to-head again, but this time without a shot fired. Eric swept through the valley again as the J-11 traded momentum for position and almost seemed to be redoing the opening blows of the fight. Eric went towards him, using speed to gain maneuvering room. He passed above the Flanker and pulled into a high yo-yo as the Flanker seemed to drift through the sky to make another attack. Eric kept turning into the attack to waste the Flanker's attempts. Make him lose energy or get frustrated and make a mistake, he reasoned. The Flanker slowed and rose, trying to get an arguably good position for another missile shot. Eric was getting caught in a position where he could only extend, which would open his engines as a heat source for the Flanker's other heatseeker. As his speed dropped evermore from the weaving back and forth, he found it was his only option. Eric rested a thumb on the countermeasures and gambled on this being a good option. The J-11 duly fired a PL-9 at him; he in turn let off two streams of flares.

"Shogun 1-5, what's your status? Shogun 1-6 is unengaged and looking for some action." DeeJay spoke up.

"Engaged...defensive with one bandit...engaged defensive." Eric replied against the workings of physics.

"Roger...okay I've got you."

Help was on the way, but Eric wanted to bag this guy for himself. He searched for the bandit as he ascended towards the furball Mark and Vixen were engaged in, skirting the edge of it as he spotted his opponent. The PL-9 arced high and to the left. Then turned downwards to strike. Eric pulled into the attack and picked his way through the two other J-11s and fellow F-21s as the missile continued downwards.

"Okay DeeJay, help me keep this guy boxed in." He radioed.

"Gonna have to belay that, Saber; another bandit...I'll try and power through to you ASAP." His wingman replied. Eric understood all too well.

"Roger that."

The Flanker with 18 X marks had his nose turned away from Eric. Seeing an opportunity like his first fight (and feeling lucky because of it), he worked every control surface on his plane to get after the Verusean fighter. He'd lost his nerve, maybe? The guy was running as fast as he could. Suddenly, black puffs appeared all around and a river appeared into view behind some more hills. They were heading right for the air base as it was getting bombed. _He tricked me! That weasley motherfucker tricked me!_ Eric's mind screamed. He got through the AA guns on the river through sheer luck, but the base still had some teeth despite all the smoke. Seeing what looked like a missile launcher or an AA gun, Eric hit his countermeasures and let the J-11 go. He yanked the stick to the right and found himself wildly arcing over the hills to the south of the base, punished for his hasty actions by a sudden onset of Gs.

He'd done exactly what the Flanker pilot had wanted him to do. Eric looked to the left and saw the enemy fighter speeding up and coming towards him from the outside of his turn. Eric tensed himself, gathered some gusto and turned back into the threat. As he did, the Flanker slowed and cut the time it took to get its nose on him slowed. The Verusean fired a second PL-9 at the belly of the Osean plane. Eric deployed flares and hooked to the right, going high and trying to get up before the weapon got too close. The Flanker had switched to its gun, and Eric caught tracers zipping by before he was away from the missile. The PL-9 went up well behind him and continued up, turning into little more than a ballistic missile. He was out of short-range weapons now; Eric could be grateful for that. The pilot was still after him, though, and Given his skill Eric would need to lose or beat him.

The two jets circled in an escalating spiral, each trying to get the upper hand on the other. On the second turn, Eric noted that there were another two jets approaching the duel from the East. He spotted the familiar shape of two more F-21s, these from VF-123's part of the mission. They split, with one going to draw the J-11 and the other going for the bandit.

"Shogun, keep that Flanker in the spiral until he goes for me." One of them radioed.

"Roger that Thunderbolt, go get him!" Eric replied, relieved that help was here.

"DeeJay, you still up?" He added soon after.

"Yeah, yeah I'm inbound. Yeah I've got him...okay I'm in a good position just hang on, Saber." Jones assured. Eric couldn't help a chuckle.

"Bit late on that, man; Thunderbolt, he's all yours."

As the J-11 turned its attention on the new threat, Eric broke away and nosed down. DeeJay passed by ahead to cover him while he got out of the fight, pylons nearly empty from the day's fight. Eric checked his fuel gauge out of habit, but he didn't need to be a psychic to know that he was going to need fuel after that much turning and burning. He latched onto a trio of F-35s heading for the coast, DeeJay in tow, as they hurried to meet a KC-10A tanker waiting some miles off the coast…

* * *

The raids on and around Guangzhu troubled President Wáng-Xú not because of the damage, but because of their symbolic nature. As he stared out of his office at the afternoon cityscape. Shen-Jiau was untouched by the war, safe behind its layers of defense against even the Oseans' most vaunted weaponry. It was an important part of keeping the citizenry calm and keeping trust in the party and the government. He turned around in his chair and picked up the letter sent from Northern Theatre Command detailing the current damage from earlier that morning. Their estimate was that the air bases could be made operational by the day after tomorrow, though without a number of their hardened shelters. However, the harbor in Guangzhu had been partly blocked by a sunken ship and the amphibious forces massing there had been largely destroyed. The northern Shimoji Islands would remain out of reach, possibly for weeks. Weeks Verusa didn't have, but weeks they would go through with a workable defense still intact...if they could remain organized.

The President looked towards a statement he'd been drafting in regards to the attacks. While the country was at war, he felt it necessary to address these directly. He privately admitted there was no fully controlling word spreading, but there was still a need to emphasize that everything was under control. Minimization was the key word; portray the attacks as little more than pinpricks. Sprinkle truth throughout them; the area of the raids was only part of a much larger country. The military wasn't even committing its full weight, just two theatre commands out of a total of six! The Verusean military still held a firm grip on the Sea of Shimoji and was pushing back its enemies on land, slowly now but still with measurable success.

He had some very good evidence to back his assurances as well. His current pride had been found in a map of Songolia sitting on an easel near a bookshelf. The awesome mechanized fist of the 17th Army Group crashed further and further south. So far they'd penetrated at least 130 kilometers into the country along a wide front, with much of their success in the east of the country where terrain favored mechanized forces. He would need them to keep going, to close in on the reinforcements the Songolians and Oseans were massing to the south. Speed remained the key to success; intelligence reported that the Oseans had reinforced its 16th Airborne Corps further with two more mechanized divisions. The Songolian Army was no pushover, either. Despite success, Verusa's longest enemy had turned its entire country into a fortress. It was still well over 500 kilometers from threatening the monarchy's capital.

Keeping their adversaries from organizing on a larger scale made control of the sea and coast even more important. Wáng-Xú recalled the naval strategy being implemented: keeping the Osean Navy at bay while destroying the Songol and Shimoji flotillas. Perhaps it was time for a shift in that strategy, but he desired to meet with Admiral Lien on what they could do. According to what the air force was reporting, one of the major casualties in the raids were Verusa's H-6 bombers. They were the key in any major punch against the Osean carriers. He shook his head and sat forward. With the push of a button, he asked that his secretary contact the admiral and make arrangements for an emergency meeting prior to the convening of the party council on this matter. He was displeased to know that the Admiral was still ensuring the northern coast was being reinforced, but he took it and made it work to his advantage. If he was keeping the Oseans out of the Sea of Shimoji, then all the better for him. With it he could maintain his command of the government.

The man steamed at the thought of having to deal with those self-righteous bastards. Idealistic youths who thought they could bring about a new era of prosperity and old fools who clung so tightly to their positions and their ways that anything even an inch out of line was considered traitorous. They hadn't completely wiped out the council because they'd been relieved of the ability to simply purge anyone for not fully committing to even single Maoist idea there was. He went back to writing his statement on the matter. His foremost concern remained the people, and the invisible power they held against him. He would need them on his side more than his peers.


	23. Chp 22: The Dragon's Blood Runs Black

_Chp. 22: The Dragon's Blood Runs Black_

 _March 2, 2024_

 _Shen-Jiau, Verusa_

The Peoples' National Congress of Verusa settled into their seats as the emergency meeting was called to order. The 400-member main body was seated in a large semi-circle, while behind him Wáng-Xú felt the eyes of the 51-member Standing Council on him. He maintained a calm, steely look as a way of pushing back at the old men. He adjusted his glasses, shuffled his papers and looked towards the crowd before him.

"Esteemed members of the congress, both junior and senior, I welcome you to this emergency meeting and welcome you, because I am determined to ensure that such common courtesies are not erased by imperialist aggression. The point of this new campaign against our homeland is one of terror, and one that aims to drain the people's will by attacking their lives directly." He began.

Again, minimization became his key tool. Calming those watching on state TV as well as denying the Oseans any political gains they sought by causing the government to appear weak. Just for this occasion, he'd had photographs of the few downed enemy aircraft from the raids. He pulled an image of an F/A-18E and held it high, almost like a trophy.

"As photos such as this show, we will not bow as they think we will. The Osean people do not understand strength, unity or sacrifice because they cannot stomach it. Their punitive raids, most of which failed to do any substantial damage or even hit their targets, have done little against us. What little they have managed to do is to have angered the people. They have managed to destroy livelihoods and communities..."

Another photo, one of an F-35, was what he was most excited to present. It was the only one that had been found after the raids; claims of as high as ten F-35s existed, but without photos orpilots they wouldn't be useful to the President. This one photo could more than carry that weight.

"...And their vaunted war machines, their "stealth jets", fall to even our most primitive weapons. I am told that this supposedly high-tech aircraft was brought down by Peoples' Militia units equipped with older weaponry!" He touted. In reality, it had been a J-11...but that held less of a punch in the man's mind.

"The people of this nation are the ones showing the imperialists and their stooges that their global campaign of subversion is not going to succeed. Even as they desperately try to hold us back, our armies liberate kilometer after kilometer and free the people from their yoke of oppression." Wáng-Xú railed, lightly pounding a closed fist against the top of his podium.

A classic phrase and line of thinking; something to make even the old men feel patriotic. One that would put them in a corner for now, too. Disagreement or perceived disagreement with the progress of operations could be seen as cowardice. Cowardice to and ideology they'd dedicated their lives to!

"Therefore I see no other logical conclusion than this: the Oseans, the Shimojis and the Songolians are reaching the end of their supposed might. They are faltering; Osea cannot shake the ghosts that still haunt it and it cannot shake its weak leaders. It cannot shake its imperialist urges and cannot see that its reign is, at last, ending. I call upon the Verusean people to maintain their strength, and to show their continued dedication to victory. This is a war on every front, and we have the will to win it. _I_ can confidently promise the Verusean people that their interests are my foremost concern. _I_ also commend the brave individuals in the People's Liberation Army and the People's Militia as they both defend our sovereign territory and work to free others from the chains of capitalist slavery."

He held up a hand in response to the professional applause that sounded throughout the chamber. Wáng-Xú felt like he'd won this round and had swung the main body and the population at large behind him. Secretly, he intended to make it very clear to his generals and admirals that the raids by those Verusa was at war with were to be contained immediately. The same tactics he used on the old men could easily be adapted to get them in line, and he wouldn't need the public to call them traitors in that case…

* * *

Eric let out a breath to keep himself steady as he crossed the Verusean coast. He was going fast and staying low as his Thunderhawk raced over the snowy terrain. Foreboding clouds blocked the crescent moon and cut away the faded white glow of the snowfall. Even through the green haze of his HMD's night mode, it was still a bit hard to see. His eyes flicked down at the LANTIRN's image being transmitted to one of his MFDs for a second, then back up into the near-abyss. It was like _Flight of the Intruder_ ; Jake Grafton and Tiger Cole rushing headlong to hit the party headquarters in North Songolia. Or "SAM City" if you were talking about the atrocity of a film. The only redeeming part of that movie, Willem Dafoe as Tiger, easily formed in the back of Eric's head. Tiger Cole was the man, even if he was an attack puke; a dude who could drop a bomb with his eyes closed.

"Ya see, Iron Hand's my thing…" He muttered with a grin, though the smirk probably wasn't as good as the actor's.

Well this time it was a POL storage facility. A big one too, and intel reckoned it was a major part of the war effort and as targets fell, places like this were on the chopping block real quick. Eric's outer pylons each held a trio of CBU-107 cluster bombs that he was to drop on eight tanks. Chris was in the loosest a looses deuce formation could get with the same loadout. Eric's flight of four would hit the storage area while six F-35s hit the trucks and facilities used to transfer it from place to place. Eric, hands tight on his stick, gently eased the plane down a few hundred feet more. The patchwork of fields and trees gave him no cover, no terrain to weave through. Instead he had to rely on speed and electronic silence.. He turned a bit more to the northeast as the first threat tripped his RWR. His GPS on the center MFD showed his was approaching a highway in the area. Eric pulled back to the left and wormed his way further inland between the radar's source and the roadway.

He didn't dare look back towards where Chris was supposed to be; that was left to faith. Following an exhaustive pre-strike planning session between them, they knew exactly how they were going to do this without the need for a single radio communication. All the talking was being done by the other attacks in the area and the other elements of the attack; ones looking for trouble to keep the heat off the strikers. Errant droplets from the weather, muted by the whine of the jet's engines, burst into being on the aircraft's canopy. Eric's speed drew them back and kept his field of view as clear as possible. As he reached the farthest edge of the SAM site's reach, he slowly turned again to hook around the curve and start towards his target. Despite the strictly-tailored patchwork of communal farms below, the world was still quiet. The SAM sitre's radar began to degrade as the EA-18s with the SEAD component worked their magic. Eric tuned his ears even more closely to the noises his receivers made. The air was growing thicker with unfriendly transmitters.

His GPS told him he was seconds away from hitting his IP for the bomb run. He armed his CBUs; his HUD switched to Air-to-Ground mode. Eric fed the coordinates for the POL facility to his LANTIRN pod and watched as the camera view slewed to that spot. It was little more than a vague shape in the distance, recognizable only by its lights. He hit his IP and ditched the tanks on his inner pylons and centerline as he lined up with the heading for his run. Reluctantly he raised his altitude enough to ensure that he could get away without being damaged by his own attack. Finally, he keyed the radio with a deep breath.

"Shogun Lead to Flight...am at IP. Goin in hot." He declared.

"Shogun 1-2 is in hot behind Lead." Chris assured.

Shoguns 1-3 and 1-4, crewed by Tex and DeeJay, made their acknowledgements quick as they approached from south of the POL complex. The F-35s, Durango, were a few minutes behind. It was plenty of time for the F-21s as they raced in. Flashes erupted from the ground as the facility's last line of defense gave up on trying to find the threat and opted for old-fashioned saturation. Eric plotted a route through the snaking tracer lines that looked like they were from every caliber of weapon imaginable. His RWR was getting overwhelmed by all the transmitters on the ground and in the air. He held off on his flares for a second more to keep his position a relative mystery. He was nearly to his release point...

"Shogun 1-1, SAM just lit off in your direction! Your five!" Chris shouted.

Eric looked back as a rocket motor's light raced up from the ground and immediately hit his flares. He hauled the F-21 to the right, into the attack, then jinked back with another set of flares. The gunfire started to shift, following the flares as the missile launcher fire a second missile to keep the pressure on.

"Three, Four push your attacks if you can while we deal with that SAM!" Eric ordered against the strain of Gs.

More flares, more flares and more violent maneuvers as the gunfire was slicing by dangerously close. Eric looked back as the second missile had been spoofed by flares, while the first was still closing. The launcher had fired its other two at his wingman, who was ascending to gain room to maneuver. Eric stayed low and fast, trying to close the distance to his release point while he shook the missile. He pulled his nose back on target and let off a third set of flares, then committed to the attack as the HQ-9 (so he'd assumed) began to falter. He nosed down, braving the tracers, and released his bombs in the general direction of the tanks. He counted on the others and the cluster bomb's spread to do the rest.

"Shogun 1-1, bombs away!" He called, just before a violent blast of flak lit up his whole world.

Eric deployed more flares and jerked the plane down and southwards before swinging around towards the direction of the coast. He looked back over each shoulder frantically as it seemed like every bell and whistle in his plane was competing to be the loudest. For a second, it seemed like he was going to take up a grim tradition in the Bradford family line of getting blown outta the sky, and the deep-rooted fear associated with that started to creep into the back of his mind. Though for now, he was less afraid and more pissed off.

"Fuck! I fucking knew this ground-pounding bullshit would get me killed!" He snarled, cursing whatever desk jockey had decided fighters should be used to do such work.

"Shogun Lead, you okay? Talk to us, Saber!" Mark snapped.

"I've been hit...Shogun 208's been hit. Tryin to get a handle on it at the moment."

Eric adjusted the stick and throttles as he frantically clawed for distance from the target. He started taking note of what was screaming at him. He'd lost a few of his smaller sensors, including his RWR, and it looked like his countermeasures were also inoperable. The big problem seemed to be that his left engine was banged up, and he reluctantly powered it down. He also gained some altitude and ditch his empty bomb racks. With some proper compensation and "some of that pilot stuff", he had his plane in fairly stable flight.

"Okay...Shogun 208 has a handle on the issues. Mad Mod be advised that I'm still declaring an emergency." He spoke up.

"Roger that 208, will relay to the boat. Think you can make it to the coast?" The mission's Hawkeye said, addressing the strikers for the first time.

"Yeah, yeah I think I can." Eric replied hurriedly.

He looked around for anymore threats, checking the sky for flak bursts or another launcher. With his RWR out he didn't know what was out there, and the silence was almost overpowering. A new voice, from the CAP, reached out to him.

"Shogun 1 this is Thunderbolt 2, we understand you've got a wounded bird? Bring it towards us; Heading 090. We've got bandits entering the area, so looking unimportant."

"Roger that Thunderbolt…" Eric replied.

Movement to his left startled him, but when he looked that way he saw Mark's F-21 coming up on his wing. Chris and DeeJay relayed that they were behind, keeping the forward pair's tail free of unwanted attention. He saw Mark's hand raise and start signalling him; it took a minute to decypher through the night sky but after a second Eric recognized that he was giving him a radio frequency. Eric switched to it and came upon Mark's voice.

"Stay calm and breath, Eric. Stay calm and breath; we'll get yah home, okay?" He was friend said. Eric nodded jerkily.

"Gotcha Mark...gotcha." He said, pushing himself to take Mark's advice.

The two switched back to the previous frequency before they had any further chances to miss important info. Durango Flight was in hard to bring it home; the Veruseans were being drawn further from a single wounded Thunderhawk. Eric got his plane further under control and began to ascend to conserve fuel and give himself plenty of altitude to glide if he really had to. He overrode the wings' automatic sweep and went to manual, searching back through his memory to what the manual said about this kind of matter. He needed a good angle for the aircraft to keep going. He put the wings back just shy of full sweep and waited. It seemed to be working.

"Tex, can you see if I'm leaking anything? Fuel gauge looks good but I wanna be sure." He radioed.

"Aight, one sec."

Mark fell back a little more and began slowly circling around the width of the other fighter, looking for signs of damage. He used a flashlight to illuminate the aircraft and better examine the scars and tears from the missile's impact. Fluid leaks were typical from such damage, but other than some stains, he couldn't see anything that was leaking...for now.

"Alright y'all look good for now. Don't place yer bets on it lasting like this forever...Ah'd take the barricade if Ah were y'all." Tex drawled.

Okay, he rationalized, things were good. Manageable might be a better word. Every mile was a mile closer to home. If he could get out over the ocean his chances rose greatly. He agreed on taking the barricade; it would guarantee that he'd come aboard the carrier. Bailing out in the cold water with his build was a gamble he didn't want to take. As soon as he was back out over the coast and further and further into a "safe area", he started contacting the carrier directly.

"Thunderdome CATCC, Thunderdome CATCC this is Shogun 208...Mad Mod pass along my emergency?" He asked.

"That's affirm, Shogun 208, ya wanna take the barrier?" An accent similar to Mark's replied.

"Yeah."

"Roger that."

The barrier was a last-ditch emergency measure when an aircraft couldn't safely be brought aboard otherwise. It was a net of clothlike material that stretched across the landing area and rose high enough to catch any aircraft in the wing. The flight deck's preparations began by clearing the area needed of any aircraft or tractors near the corridor. They had time, but it was better to get it done so they could make damn sure they were ready. At times Eric's approach seemed to be switching from fast to slow, fast to slow. Anything that even remotely indicated a problem seemed to make faces pucker and foreheads tense. On order from the Air Boss, the bulk of the deck's crew started pulling the netting from its storage space and setting it across the deck just past the third wire. Metal stanchions at the end helped bring the unfurled device up taut. On the LSO platform, the top "Paddles" stood with Stickler and the usual lot. Lieutenant Commander Stanley Hoenfelds would be the one guiding him in, but Stickler was present to reassure his friend. The latter raised his handset and keyed the radio.

"Shogun 208, Shogun 208...this is Paddles. You hearin' me, Saber?" He asked.

"Yeah, loud n clear." Eric replied. After a long, tense wait he'd gotten in range.

"Good...okay listen the boat just turned into the wind, so we're gonna have you come straight in."

"Gotcha."

"Just like a normal landing...This your first time taking the barrier, Saber?"

"Naw I do this every other Tuesday, Stickler."

"Alright alright calm down it's something the script says I gotta ask. Starch will be guiding you in for this one, so standby."

There was a brief pause before the "Wing" LSO took over and explained the procedure to Eric. The only difference was that he'd cut power when he hit the deck. For now he was to shut off almost everything else and ditch any remaining stores. When he was certain all was ready, the LSO asked Eric his current fuel state.

"Ah currently one-point-nine, Paddles...still no fuel leak but I'm losing oil and hydraulic fluid at a slow rate." The blonde replied.

"Alright...okay I see you at about six miles...gear down, flaps down."

Eric reluctantly deployed his landing gear and adjusted his wings so he could deploy his flaps. The plane wobbled a bit as he fought to keep it aloft and stable. Just to the right of the landing corridor, he caught a glimpse of an MH-60 waiting. Every failsafe was in place, but it gave him little comfort.

"Alright Thunderhawk 208, call the ball." Starch said.

"Thunderhawk...ball." Eric replied with a heavy emphasis on ball.

He forced himself to swallow some air. Fear, fear of the same fate as other Bradfords who flew, hung over him with an evil grin. He wanted to rip off his mask; it felt suffocating. Even moving an inch away from his controls seemed to send him into near panic, though.

"Power, Shogun...Gimme more powerrr…" Starch soothingly asked. Almost as if he had direct control, the plane and pilot obeyed.

"Bring it a little left...little left...looking good...okay one mile." He added.

One mile...God please keep my wings on Eric thought. As he closed, he began an impromptu prayer.

"Dear God...give me strength...guide me, and bless me. Accept my thanks for all in my life, and all I love…" He whispered.

"Power…" Starch interjected.

He tipped the throttles forward again.

"Little low, you're getting low…"

Eric couldn't totally fight the urge to power back so he could cut as soon as he was just above the deck. Every time he gave it power, he throttled back. Starch didn't like that, especially as the plane reached the point of no return. Now he had to get less soothing.

"Power! Power, power now!"

The shouts were drowned out by the F-21's landing. Eric planted it just past the Number One wire and cut. For a tense second the fighter galloped across the deck before the barrier wrapped around it like a giant, misshapen hand. Eric, despite his bracing, was jolted forward. The sudden deluge of Gs upon him had his brain swirling in seconds. His vision shuddered, then faded to black as he passed out. He slumped forward in his seat as crash crews hurried to his aid, exhausted but alive.


	24. Chp 23: Rebuild, Reflect, Redeploy

_Chp. 23: Rebuild, Reflect, Redeploy_

 _March 4, 2024_

 _FOB McMahon, The Shimoji Islands_

James had never thought that a tent and a cot could be luxurious, but then again he never thought he'd be so happy to be wrong. He was able to sleep in just his MARPAT trousers and combat shirt inside a nice, warm tent instead of conking out at his station in his tank or rolling out a sleeping bag and banking on the residual heat from the exhaust. He shifted on his bed and stretched with a long yawn. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep neither did he care. All he did was dream dirty dreams of Otome. Stuff that would probably make even her blush. He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. Too much of that thinking had made it hard to sleep now. He sat up just as the flap at the far end of the tent opened and in marched Lord Benedict himself, dressed in overalls and combat rig.

"Alright yah friggin yahoos, up and at em up and at em! There's hot chow for us and you all are gonna need it!" He bellowed, kicking a few beds as he marched down the path down the tent's center.

"Aw come on, Sarge! We gotta rest up!" Martinas groggily complained. He got his cot flipped to the side for the comment.

"You got plenty of time to rest up, now on your feet! Formation at 0900 so get some food and make yourselves look like friggin Osean Marines!" He barked. The driver exchanged looks with his tank's loader and gunner, who were both getting vertical.

James tugged on his cold-weather jacket, set his combat rig over that and secured his pistol belt around his waist before he exited the tent into the winter air. The trio walked down the main aisle between the two rows of tents housing Charlie Company. A long garage with a bunch of tables and portable heaters in it served as the mess hall at the temporary base. The FOB was placed at the southern edge of town near the city's harbor, in a partially-developed transportation center. It was the best 3rd Tanks could ask for without going back to their home at Camp Hazzard. James had been enjoying all the rest, but he also welcomed the prospect of hot food that didn't come from an MRE pouch.

A line of Marines fed into one of the doors next to a large garage door and snaked down a line of chafing dishes filled with eggs, sausage, biscuits and veggies. Coolers as big as one or two people were stuffed with fruit and yogurt. James didn't take much; if they were back to a stricter schedule that meant they were heading out soon. If that was the case he wanted to say his goodbyes while he was back in civilization. Most of all he wanted to hear Otome's voice or, if she could, video call her. He hurried to the table members of his platoon were sitting at and sat down next to Luke. Almost immediately his speed-eating gained attention.

"You're gonna go into a food coma during formation, dude." Luke commented.

"I want enough time to talk to Otome before I leave." He replied.

"Brad, can I ask you a question? Mano e mano?" Martinas asked, leaning towards his friend from across the table. James looked up, meeting the driver's gaze, and swallowed what food he'd started chewing.

"Yes, I'm sure she'll be waiting when I get home. Don't ask." He replied as he raised his head.

"Look man I know you-"

"She doesn't wanna go back to that life, Martinas. Drop it; you don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on you guys, no heavy shit right now okay?" Luke interjected with a tired sigh. Jose again didn't get the message.

"Look I'm just saying cause I don't want Brad to-"

"Fucking _drop_ it, Martinas." Luke and James replied almost instantaneously.

There was a long, pregnant pause before the conversation started to slowly trickle back into being. James, at first reluctantly, joined in to ease the tension. There was no exchange of apologies between him and Jose, but instead a mutual and unsaid agreement to put it behind them. Pretend it'd never happened and move on. There was a deluge of things to talk about now that they'd been back in the real world for a few days. Luke's brother was a dad now, Lord Nelson's gunner Vince was excited that the Eaglin Polars were in the Stanley Cup, but all that kept nagging James was a need to hear Otome's voice...see her and hold her. As soon as he felt full enough he was on his way with a hurried "goodbye" to the rest of his friends. Luke gave him a quick look, debating whether to follow, before Jose stopped him.

"Nah let him go; he needs to talk to his girl. Bro's been gunning hard the whole time. He needs something to make the rest worth something." He said in a tone that sounded apologetic.

"Like you said though: no heavy shit." The driver added. Luke had the briefest and smallest half-smirk before James returned.

"You see this? This guy is an example to follow." He said, motioning at Jose. The two chuckled and exchanged fist bumps before James left again.

Satisfied he'd left on a better note now, James left the mess hall and went straight to a large trailer with the logo for the Navy and Marine Exchange on it. A smaller logo beneath it advertised the place as a "phone and internet center"; fancy speak for a place where you could call loved ones or chat with them over the computer. Each device had a little cubicle-like setup for some privacy; he'd been inside before to try and reach his brother and call his Mom. He went inside and found the line was relatively short for the computers. James eased himself as far back against the wall as he could and stared across at the rules for using the computers and phones. The conversations he could overhear were a lot of new arrivals telling their families they were here safe and sound. What remained of 3rd Tanks received a combination of reservists from 4th Tanks and guys (both experienced and new) from the Osean Marine Corps Combat Maneuver Center at Seven Mounds.

The thought made James wonder how well they'd fare. His platoon had been given two crews, half reservist and half active duty each. Their youngest replacements were about his age but he felt older than them. They were like him, kinda; back before he popped his combat cherry. The others were vets; most had seen combat in Varcia or even against Yuktobania. The majority looked good and the uninitiated were listening and listening closely. He looked towards the inner parts of the center and shuffled forward with the others as computers became available. When he was allowed to take one and told he had fifteen minutes, he hurried to it and furiously typed in his username and password for Skype. So fast he messed up the latter twice.

 _James: Otome? You there?_

 _Otome: James?!_

 _James: Yeah Baby, it's me. Can you talk? Like, on video chat?_

 _James: Also be aware I'm in a semi-public place, so it's not going to be "that" kind of call._

 _Otome: Yeah, yeah hang on. XOXOXO_

He smiled at the timing. It must be his lucky day, he reckoned. He accepted the incoming video call as quickly as he could place the cursor over the word "Answer". Otome's smiling face appeared, close to make it look like she was kissing him through the screen. She tugged one of the sleeves of her hoodie up and sat back so he could see it. It had the Eagle, Globe and Anchor on it. She smiled and winked at him.

"I wanted you to see this. I wear it all the time." She explained.

"It looks great on you, Baby. Sorry I can't say much more. Though honestly I'm just glad I caught you." He replied.

"I keep my phone close, and when I'm home I stay next to the computer all I can."

"I'm sorry I'm worrying you, Otome…"

"You can make it up to me by never leaving me again."

"It may take some time to make good on that."

"I can wait...it's hard but I can wait."

James felt tears welling up at the edges of his eyes. Somewhere in his gut he knew Otome had been hurting without him, crying all the time and angry, vainly begging for him back. Memories of the gyaru waiting at the jetty, saying it'd cost 7500 Tenjo for her company, flooded back. Another whore looking to catch young, excited Osean servicemen.

"I'm glad I met you, Otome...I just...I know alotta people give us shit but you're the center of my life. You've been it since...fuck, since the first time I met you." He commented, thoughts seeping into his words. He paused to catch his breath and recompose himself.

The naive Devil Dog who came to her again and again and again and again until one day she angrily poured it all out to him over a nice dinner he'd insisted on buying for her. Or asking him, demanding him, to call her by her real name. Now two dumb kids in love, some might say. She was about to start crying, too.

"James, you got me out of a bad life, and I owe you my undying love for that. You're my man and mine alone. My Devil Dog. You shower me with love and affection and spoil me and I spoil you back and will shamelessly and unendingly declare that you belong to me." She replied, unconsciously injecting all her feelings into them talking too.

"Will you come with me when I get assigned elsewhere?"

"You don't even have to ask!"

"Ah crap, I'm sorry Otome...I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry, Baby."

"You're crying too, dumbass!"

"Marines don't cry!"

Now they were starting to laugh while still crying. James leaned forward to hide his face and make a second, stronger effort to get himself back together. When he looked back up, Otome was busy wiping away the tears and sniffling.

"I love you, Otome." James smiled.

"And I love you just as much, James." She replied, forming a heart shape with her hands.

Catching up was little more than an afterthought. James let his girlfriend do most of the talking so he could hear her voice. Hear the "Valley Girl" style speak he knew her for. In fact he'd gotten so lost in it that he was down to two minutes when he came back to the present as a whole. He'd hoped to reach out to Eric, but he also knew his older brother would understand.

"I'm sorry I can't talk longer, Otome...I'll call or write or something when I can." He apologized.

"I'll send you messages daily so you can read them if you miss me." She replied with a sweet smile.

"Thanks Baby...I love you."

"I love you too, James. Come home soon."...

* * *

"Fā-SHÉ!"

The combined thunder of the two batteries of AH4 howitzers stirred a cloud of dust and snow particles, which masked the guns as their crews reloaded and fired a second volley. General Chen watched their target from the cover of some trees. Forward of his position and security element, two companies of ZTZ-96s and ZBL-08s were cranking up to charge across the freeway and silence the Shimoji positions at the edge of a vineyard. The advance to surround the capital from the south was slowing considerably, and there was a redoubled effort to push down the coast and capture more harbors and jetties to bring in fresh reinforcements. Limited reinforcements, though; the advance into Songola was growing more and more costly by the day. Chen was on another one of his visits to the front line.

After a third salvo, the cannoneers stopped firing to move their weapons before they could be zeroed in on. A familiar roar signalled the approach of a flight of JH-7s to continue the bombardment. They came in fast and low, low enough to surprise the air defenses backing the Shimoji line. Tracers blindly swatted at them as the first two roared at the line and dropped trios of cluster bombs on the positions. A second pair hooked around from the General's left with rockets while three missiles, shoulder-launched it looked, chased after them. The JH-7s split up, with one moving closer to the streams of tracers. There were supposed to be more aircraft, J-16s, to suppress those. They'd never arrived, and half the Snow Leopard flight would be heading for home.

The results of the attack were hard to determine, but the two tank companies struck out ahead of the motorized infantry. They moved fast to the slight dip on the side of the highway, with their guns letting out thunderous cracks as they apparently spotted Shimoji positions or vehicles. Chen focused his binoculars on the vineyard and saw the burning remains of a few vehicles, Type 89s it looked like. He'd expected tanks; there was supposed to be at least a battalion of Type 10s in the area. He shifted his gaze towards the sky again as the two surviving JH-7s were coming around again, this time for an attack on the AAA. His jaw tightened as they came in and released their remaining cluster bombs, to which another volley of shoulder-launched missiles responded.

According to the radio chatter he could hear, that was the end of their part in the fight. The two jets, pylons nearly empty, roared back towards relative safety. The two ZTZ companies had made it to the highway and were beginning to cross to the other side. A shell deflected off the turret of one of the tanks on the left flank. Chen looked towards the lip of a long slope leading down into a major valley with more vineyards. The hull of a Type 16 "Maneuver Combat Vehicle" appeared, one of eight. One exploded almost immediately as the nearest platoon of ZTZs turned to engage. Chen lowered his binoculars and sat back with a tense frown as the slugfest erupted. It was largely relegated to the ground; there was a constant conversation over the radio for more aircraft to help. An explosion behind the line revealed that something had just impacted one of the AA guns on the Verusean side. Almost simultaneously, A missile struck from above at another PGZ.

A blue shape rushing from the direction of the highway was an F-2, bombs already falling from it. They fell on part of the ZDLs' positions before the jet raced towards the sky with the remaining defenses vainly swatting at it. Several more explosions enveloped one of the artillery batteries as another F-2 raced right above the command post. Chen ducked, then looked up as the F-2 ascended and made a tight circle over their position. Chen wasn't taking any chances by sitting around.

"Pack up! Everyone to your vehicles!" He barked.

He hurried from his position to the ZBD as another jet was coming in. He looked up and saw something much higher up than the F-2s. It dove and revealed itself as an F-35 before it fired two missiles downwards at the command post. Chen jumped into a foxhole the battalion command had made and stayed hunkered down as his transport exploded. Another explosion took out the battalion command post. Chen raised his head when the wave of heat fizzled away, then banged a closed fist into the snowy ground. He got to his feet and hurried back to his position as he ordered the soldier nearest him to check for wounded. Chen hurried to his observation position again and saw that the advance was continuing, albeit with less strength as it had. Still, the enemy had given up the vineyard for now. For how long, though, the man couldn't say. This had been the fourth time they'd tried to take these few kilometers…

* * *

Eric was firmly of the opinion that he should've been out of the sick bay within hours. The doctor had been firm, though, in making sure he was well-rested and recovered from taking the barricade. In the end he was down for close to a full 24 hours before he was allowed to leave. A shot of medicinal brandy in his gut to help get him back in step was still trickling through his veins as he walked down to the Ready Room with the hope of getting himself back on the schedule. He walked in and spotted McGavin himself sitting in his chair, apparently on alert duty given the full kit he had on. Eric cleared his throat politely and stood at attention next to the man.

"Lieutenant Eric Bradford reporting back to duty, sir." He announced confidently.

"Ah, the young Saber returns to the madhouse...don't tell me you actually wanted to come back?" McGavin replied with a fleeting twinkle in his eye.

"Beats laying around in sick bay listening to the crime of a music selection they have, sir."

"Ha! Fair enough; welcome back to the Ronin."

The two shook hands before Eric excused himself to use the computer in the ready room. He had an inkling there was a small stack waiting to be delegated to him at his desk in Weapons. That being something he wasn't eager to get back to, he decided he'd catch up with the rest of the world here before he let Wall know he was alive and well. One of the first things he checked was his email. He was surprised to see something from his little brother. _Must've been pulled off the line or something...shit, hope he's okay. Mom's gonna go crazy if he got so much as a scratch._ That reminded Eric not to tell her about his last landing. He opened the email and found that the subject line loudly proclaimed "I'm fine I swear" in all caps and with about a dozen exclamation points following.

 _Yo!_

 _I'm resting for a few days at an FOB. No idea where we're going next, plus OPSEC and all that. Don't have a lot of time because I spent most of what time I had to use a computer talking to Otome. I've decided I'm gonna marry her and get her outta this place. Not letting her go back to the life she used to have. Got any advice, man? She's my first serious girlfriend...well okay I know you and Saki were each other's first in that way but you two have been together way longer than me and all is well, getting thrown off a perfectly good ship then belly-flopping back onto it. In all honesty, and don't tell anyone, but it gets us guys on the ground real happy when fast air comes in to drop a major asskicking on the commies. Hope you can write back soon, but I don't know when I will. Get out alive and we can share a 12-pack of Dr. Pepper like we used to when we were kids._

 _Love your Jarhead of a brother,_

 _James_

The blonde forced back a snort to keep attention away from himself and started typing up a reply, equally casual in tone. He'd seen the marriage thing coming from a continent away. It was a common thing among enlisted sailors to do it, sometimes following the first intimate encounter they had during a port call. At least with James, he'd been with Otome a little longer. Eric would have to dwell on a response, so he made his reply short and promised that he would see what advice he could come up with, but he needed to think on that question. Accepting the inevitable, he stood up after he'd sent the message and logged off, and left the ready room for his other job. As he left, he spotted Vixen walking down the passageway. He stopped and yielded to her, and allowed her an easier target for a punch to the arm.

"About time you stopped dicking around in sick bay. How're doin, Saber?" She asked with her usual candor.

"Hoping I can get back in the air soon, Vixen." He replied readily. Despite herself, that big sister persona of hers was in full effect.

"Good, I'm much happier when all my Flight Leads are online. Hope you made the most of that rest."

"I did my best but the doc rations his brandy like we're prisoners or something."

"Ha, well we'll drink plenty when we get home...anyways I'm glad you're back cause we just got a last-minute tasking. Air Force smashed a major POL facility and a railyard and they want additional intelligence on the matter. _Harling's_ apparently getting ready to hit Verusean positions in the islands so we got tapped to do BDA. I want this one to be senior pilots only and the fewer people I have to pull from BARCAP the better."

TST, or Time-Sensitive Target. Such missions were not too uncommon but were usually simple matters. In a profession that included a great deal of planning and preparation, complex strikes were rarely given such tasking. Photo Recon was far more simple.

"How soon?" Eric asked with little hesitation.

"Briefing's in an hour." She replied.

"Then I'm in, even if I don't have a choice."


End file.
